


And Straight On Till Morning.

by reading_is_in



Series: Vampire AU [3]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Urban Fantasy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reading_is_in/pseuds/reading_is_in
Summary: The last installment in my 16 Candles Verse.
Relationships: Gerard Way/Lindsey Way, Joe Trohman/OFC, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: Vampire AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571098
Comments: 58
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick tugged at his collar nervously, then adjusted his cap. It was probably the fourteenth time he'd adjusted it since the driver had collected them. And holy shit - the driver. The actual driver from an actual major label who was taking them to their actual record signing in an actual Borders store. The dude had opened the car door for them when he pulled up at the apartment, which made Patrick feel like a douchebag, and Andy raise his eyebrows at all of them like,

'Really? This is what we're doing now?'

Predictably, it was Andy who had been the holdout on the signing with Island Records. He had a whole speech about the evils of corporate industry, the commodification of art and exploitation of the worker:

"Exploitation?!" Pete had yelled at him. "Dude have you seen the advance on this?"

"It's an advance, not a present Pete. We have to earn it back. And in any case, that's not the point, it's way bigger than just us. It's about commodity fetishim and wringing every cent back from the labourer via marketing of music as a product that-stop laughing Joe, weed is rotting your brain!"

"You said fetishism," Joe giggled. He'd been well into his second celebratory spliff by then. Andy didn't usually preach to anyone about booze or drugs, despite his straight edge commitments, but since he'd moved in with the rest of them he did get kind of pissed about Joe smoking in the apartment. In any case, Pete eventually talked him around with a speech of his own, about how they needed the label's reach for their music to have any impact, how you had to make compromises sometimes for the greater good and it wasn't going to change who they were. Andy had directed the eyebrows mostly at him, but Pete just grinned and slid a pair of sunglasses over his face. It was a dark, dull and wintery day and the amount of sunlight he’d been exposed to between the store and car would be perfectly tolerable. Patrick took the glasses off him.

“You look like a dick,” he'd said.

“I am kind of a dick though,” said Pete amiably, but he let Patrick keep the glasses.

“What if nobody turns up?" Patrick said now. Rationally, he thought that was pretty unlikely, seeing as their hometown shows were selling out now and kids brought them things to sign on a regular basis. Even so, he was nervous, his subconscious constantly muttering that their success was some kind of cosmic joke, that he was being set up somehow and the universe would reveal him as an imposter at any moment. Patrick never claimed to be the securest guy in the world. Oddly enough, the kids drooling over Pete didn’t bother Patrick at all. Maybe he was finally growing up and getting over his sexually jealous streak. He knew what Pete looked like, and he knew that the Pete those kids were in love with was a construct, a Pete partly made from their own imaginations and partly from Pete’s stage persona. Patrick guessed the rebellious, parent-displeasing factor of following a vampire musician was also part of it, even if most of them had never so much as talked to a vampire in real life. And sure, Pete’s stage persona was _part_ of him, but it was only one part. Patrick had the whole Pete, the real Pete to himself, bonded to him in a way he’d never known was possible. It wasn’t like Patrick could read his mind or anything - and Pete had assured him that, if and when he got to the point he could read minds, he would never intrude on Patrick’s thoughts without consent. It was more like - a heightened awareness. He could sense when Pete was close by, and get a general impression of his moods, though Pete was able to close it off thanks to Mikey’s instruction. He had closed it off now, and Patrick suspected he wasn’t as confident about their signing as he was acting.

The record was called _From Under the Cork Tree_ , and Patrick was pretty much as proud of it as anything else he’d ever done in his life, maybe including saving humans. Once they’d figured out that Patrick should be the primary composer and Pete should write the words, something they hadn’t quite nailed down on _Take This To Your Grave_ , things had just - _come together._ Maybe it was the bond, or maybe they would have been like this anyway, but Patrick had never gelled as well with another writer before _. Cork Tree_ had pretty much poured out - even when they were arguing, which was often, the past six months had been insanely productive. The first time Patrick heard himself on a _national radio station,_ he didn’t know if he was ecstatic or mortified. Possibly both. He certainly didn’t like his voice as much as everyone else did, and still thought of himself as a much better instrumentalist than he was a singer - but even he had to admit that - as a band - they sounded _pretty damn good._

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about people turning up,” said the driver. “You guys are getting big.”

“We’re what now?” Patrick was startled out of his thoughts, and back to the present moment.

“Office talk is that the bosses are really happy with the numbers you’re pulling. They have big plans for you.”

Patrick had little time to wonder what _big plans_ could mean - a national tour was already far bigger than he'd ever imagined - because the car turned a corner and the Borders store came suddenly into view. And that wasn’t all: outside was a whole queue of kids, a crowd, even, laughing and pushing at each other and posing for selfies on their cell phones while a handful of harried employees attempted to keep some kind of order. It stretched most of the way down the street.

“Is that - for _us?”_ Patrick exclaimed, but the answer was obvious: over half of the kids were wearing Fall Out Boy t-shirts, and the rest were carrying posters and CDs and other stuff Island Records had arranged and Patrick refused to look at. (Pete had pinned their first poster on the refrigerator door. Patrick had promptly removed it. The last thing he needed to see was his own face trying to look serious and artistic when he was fixing his breakfast cereal). 

“Woah,” Joe said. “That’s - that’s a lot of kids.”

“That’s a lot of merchandise,” Andy muttered, so Pete hit him. They got out of the car - the driver opened the door again - and the kids started screaming. Literally screaming. Pete beamed and ran over and about six of them immediately tried to hug him, though a couple of security guards ran up to prevent a total mob scene. Joe looked rather pleased too, Patrick thought, and then there were kids shoving autograph books into _Patrick’s_ face and yelling,

“Patrick! I love you!”

“Huh?” said Patrick intelligently.

“I keep telling you Rick,” Pete sidled back up and slung an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “You underestimate yourself. These kids aren’t here to see _me,_ they’re here to see _us.”_

“I don’t know about that,” Patrick muttered, as a girl in a home-made t-shirt literally burst into tears when Pete smiled at her.

“All signings inside the store!” said a short woman through a megaphone - she was wearing a badge Patrick couldn’t read from where he was standing, but was obviously in charge of things. She made a gesture, and a younger guy ran up to them with a clipboard and radio headset:

“Hey guys, thanks for coming. Come inside, everything is set up for you.” 

Andy thanked him, and they all went inside, to find a whole display of their album cover surrounding a table. Beside it was a cardboard cutout monstrosity featuring their images and new logo. Patrick cringed internally to see himself positioned in the foreground of the image, looking like a dork with his arms crossed - see, this was why he’d wanted to be the drummer. 

“Okay, pens are here, posters are right behind you, we’ll be selling the album at the checkout to anyone who doesn’t have it before they can get it signed. These are empties,” the store employee gestured to the display cases. “Water and sodas are right there - do you need anything else?”

“This is all great,” Patrick assured him, suddenly realizing that he’d been silent so far and maybe it looked rude. “Thanks man.”

“Oh no worries, thanks for doing this. This is the busiest we’ve been in months.”

Pete and Joe exchanged grins and they sat down, taking a minute to get organized before the kids were let in. 

“You guys are the best!” said the first one. “You’re my favorite band!”

And despite himself, Patrick felt a small smile start to creep up around his blushing. He did that. His music. His compositions had put that smile on the kid’s face. It was a good feeling.

They got into a rhythym - it wasn’t hard, although Patrick felt kind of dumb saying the same thing fifty thousand times: “Hey, thanks for coming, thanks for supporting us, you’re welcome, who should I make it out to?”. It was more than enough for most of them, and Patrick allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he was pretty okay at this - until he heard Joe say,

“Um, hi?” a little confusedly. Patrick looked up to see a blonde woman in her late thirties or forties with a short severe haircut and a glare on her face. She didn’t have anything for them to sign, and nor was she wearing a store shirt. She was, in fact, wearing a badge that read - Patrick squinted -

_For the Family: United Parents of America._

Patrick didn’t like where this was going.

The woman continued to glare at them.

“Can we….help you?” Pete asked.

“You certainly _could,_ but I expect that will be too much to ask,” said the woman.

“I’m sorry, what?” said Andy.

“Do you boys really think this is appropriate?” The woman said. “A vampire. On stage with you. On the _television._ I have nothing against you personally, young man, I’m sure very good at….what you do. But have you really thought about the example you’re setting for children?”

“The example of….being a vampire?” Pete sounded confused.

“This sort of… _.association_ ,” the woman gestured between them all. By this time, some of the kids in line were getting disgruntled, and a young store employee was saying something nervously into a radio. “Look, we have no problem with vampires. In their place. But humans are humans and vampires are vampires and we’re seperated for good reasons.”

“Who...exactly is ‘we’?” said Andy, and the woman dumped a stack of brochures on the table. They bore the same logo and name of the woman’s badge, and underneath that they read, _‘Protect our kids from unnatural influence’_. Angered but definitely curious now, Patrick picked up a brochure and skimmed the inside page. It featured a shitty diagram of a pair of stick figures, one of which had exaggerated fangs. A double-headed arrow between them seemed to indicate space. The vampire-figure was stood against a shaded background which Patrick guessed indicated night, and the human stood under a stylized sun. ‘ _Keep the daytime human!’_ read the text: _‘Species-mixing isn’t natural or healthy!'_

“Oo-kay,” said Pete. “Well, that’s fucked up.”

The woman looked outraged, and like she was about to start yelling about the obscenity, but at that moment security appeared and said, “Ma’am, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now.”

“Why?” said the woman. “I have a civil right to protest this-”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Joe stage-whispered. “I thought this was America.” The reference made Pete laugh, but Patrick could sense how uncomfortable he was. The rest of the signing went by in relative peace, but when they got outside, the woman was still there, and she’d brought some friends. They were all wearing badges and t-shirts for that Family Society of America or whatever it was called, and some of them even hard placards.

“Sorry,” said the short woman, whose badge indeed read 'Store Manager': “We can remove them from the store, but we can’t do anything to stop them standing out here on the sidewalk.”

“Well, all publicity is good publicity I guess,” said Pete, but he looked relieved when the driver pulled up.

“I really, really don’t want to be in an ‘issue’ band,” Joe sighed once they were back in the car.

“Why not?” demanded Andy, at the same time as Pete said,

“Oh well _I’m_ sorry Joseph, I didn’t exactly ask for this.”

“I’m not saying you _asked_ for it,” Joe said. “I’m just _saying-”_

“What?” Pete snapped.

“Can you not like - _lean into it.”_

“Why not?” demanded Andy again. “Don’t you think it's important to challenge people like that?”

“Yeah of course but like-!” Joe said. “Not as my job! I just wanna play guitar man, I’m not cut out to be like - a professional activist.”

“Nor am I!” Pete exclaimed. “You think I want to go around justifying my damn existence every day! Unfortunately it looks like I don’t have a _choice,_ if I want to be in this band.”

“What do you mean _if?_ ” Patrick was startled. 

There was a long pause, during which Pete looked out of the window. Then,

“Well,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be. I mean it's not like you guys need my stellar composition skills or anything. You’re a major talent Rick, I don’t want to mess up your shot by having everyone just focus on the fact I’m a vampire.”

“Oh no!” said Patrick. “Absolutely not. If you quit I quit. This whole thing was _your_ idea Pete. You practically forced me to sing. You can’t make me actually start to like your dumb band and then bail on me. No way in hell.”

“Oh don’t be stupid Pete,” Joe rolled his eyes. “Of course we’re not doing it without you.”

Andy didn’t say anything, but he probably actively _wanted_ to be in an ‘issue band’, and just smiled in satisfaction.

  
  


*

Mikey took off his bass and high-fived Frank, who was lowering his guitar. 

“We sound good,” he said. “That was good. We should do something with that.”

“Like what?” said Frank. 

“I don’t know, like record it or something.”

“You want to be the first vampire rock star, Mikey Way?” Frank grinned.

“I think Pete might have cornered the market on that one,” Mikey said.

“Oh yeah did you see earlier?! Their band was on the news. Well, kind of. It wasn’t really a story about their band, but they played a clip. It was about this protest, some crazy parents’ group were protesting humans mixing with vampires.”

“Ugh,” said Mikey: “That again. Hopefully people will just ignore them. Or maybe it will get the guys some record sales.”

“I don’t know about that. There’s gonna be a debate on the TV tonight with somebody from the protestors and Gabriel Saporta. People are actually listening to them.”

Since Gerard had conceded that it probably wouldn’t kill them all to leave the grounds on occasion, he’d actually gone ahead and gotten a TV for the parlour. Mikey had yet to convince him to get on the internet, but it was certainly a start. Gerard mostly enjoyed watching horror programs and dissecting how inaccurate they were, but he would watch the news or a current affairs show every so often. It was perhaps unfortunate that he decided to watch that night.

“This is bad,” he said, pacing back and forth beside the mantlepiece, as was his habit when worried about something. “This is really bad.”

On the television, Gabriel Saporta was looking debonair if a little flamboyant, addressing the news anchor:

“But as we’ve seen, it is absolutely possible for humans and vampires to exist side-by-side and even bond with each other. Granted, not all vampires desire a daytime existence, but enforced segregation is nothing more than bigotry.”

“Co-existence is one thing,” said his opponent, an older man with neat greying hair in a crisp white shirt. “No-one is suggesting vampires should be punished simply for being vampires.”

“Well-” said Saporta.

“But you have to admit that the latest spate of attacks in the city - in the daytime, no less - you have to admit that these vicious attacks cast some serious doubt on your attempts to portray your kind as rational and civilized beings.”

“That’s a rogue faction,” Saporta said calmly.

“They call themselves Dandies,” the man said.

“They can call themselves what they like. Even so, they don’t represent us, and I’ve already condemned their actions in public.”

“What is he talking about?” Gerard demanded. “What rogue faction. Mikey do you know anything about this?”

“No,” said Mikey and reached for his phone. “But I’ll bet I know who does.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“So….you killed Beckett,” Mikey Way was saying slowly. “But you left his people….alive?”

“There was no need to kill them,” Pete shrugged, at the same time as Lindsey said,

“ _Mi-_ key,” in a disapproving voice.

“I thought you guys were all about pacifism,” Joe said curiously.

“Well I thought you guys were all about hunting,” said Mikey.

“Mikey if you’re going to be a brat, you can leave,” said Gerard, in that weird way he had of speaking to Mikey as though he was a child. Joe had a younger brother, and the most parental thing he’d ever done was pick him up from a house party when he was wasted, then help him cover for it from their actual parents. Joe liked the Ways well enough, they were trustworthy and friendly once they warmed up to you. But they were definitely strange ones - even by vampier standards. 

“I gotta say,” Frank Iero put in: “It does seem kind of predictable those guys would come back for like - vengeance.”

“We don’t know for sure it's them,” Andy cuationed. “And we don’t know their motives either.”

“But realistically,” Joe said: “They’re rogue vampires calling themselves Dandies. It's a safe bet.”

“So…” Pete shrugged. “I guess killing them has _become_ necessary.” He looked uncomfortable. Joe _felt_ uncomfortable, to be frank. Hunting random rogue vampires was one thing. Hunting one you actually _knew_ was quite another. Ryan had been a good kid. Once. Joe remembered the first time they’d met, in the diner, when he and Spencer were just two best friends, scared and searching for Brendon. In some ways it seemed like it happened just yesterday; in others, a lifetime ago. Joe didn’t want to have to stake Ryan. Or Brendon, for that matter. But he would, he guessed, if he had to. Nobody ever said hunting would be a nonstop party.

“Isn’t this going to just - bring more division?” Gerard asked anxiously. “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, you know.”

“Normally I’d agree with you,” Andy said. “But the treaties are held in a very delicate balance right now. Most vampires are happy with the law. If we don’t eradicate this group right now, it could either become a bigger revolt, or a killing spree. Either way, more lives will be lost.”

“So you kill to save lives,” Gerard said miserably. “See, Mikey, this is why-”

“I’ll go,” Mikey interrupted them.

“You most certainly will not,” said Gerard.

“Me too,” said Frank. “Look Gee - it will make it an even delegate. Three humans, three vampires, so they can see both communities are against them. Hell, maybe we can get them to surrender without any bloodshed, if we put on a good enough show.”

“Or maybe neither of you will come back,” said Gerard sharply.

“That won’t happen,” Andy said. “We’re pretty experienced hunters, and Ryan and Brendon haven’t been vampires very long. They can’t possibly have rebuilt Beckett’s faction in the time since we staked him, and even that was small.”

Then Gerard did something Joe wasn’t expecting. He looked from Andy to Mikey to Frank to Pete and then back to Mikey again. Then he said,

“Well, I suppose it's up to you.”

Even Mikey looked taken aback. But he said,

“Right,” firmly enough, and he and Frank high-fived surreptitiously.

“One question,” said Gerard. “As the head of the Dandies, shouldn’t Saporta be the one dealing with this? They are dragging his name through the mud, after all.”

“He’ll help if we need him to,” said Pete. “It probably won’t be necessary though. Like Andy said, this should be a pretty straightforward hunt.”

“Alright, don’t jinx it,” said Joe, but apparently he was too late on that score.

It was not a straightforward hunt.

With the help of the vampires’ psychic powers, they’d tracked the group of rogue Dandies to the abandoned office space they’d set up as a base in the city. Most of the humans who’d been attacked had lived or worked in the immediate vicinity, and between Mikey and Frank’s strength it was pretty easy to break in around dusk, when the young vampires were weakest. It wasn’t that Brendon and Ryan were so terribly strong now, or that they had so many people. They had more than Joe had expected - including a very tall blond guy; a shorter guy with a beard, and an athletic-looking young woman with freckles and a nose ring. None of them were very strong by vampire standards, probably all turned in the last year, and it wasn’t much of a struggle before they had the little group incapacitated with darts full of holy water. None of them recognised Mikey or Frank, which supported Joe’s theory that they couldn’t have been vampires for very long. Joe summarily slapped iron handcuffs on Brendon and secured him to a heating pipe, while Andy did the same with Ryan. Patrick, Mikey and Frank kept the others at bay with the dart guns. They held stakes at the ready, but they were hoping they wouldn't have to use them, and in any case, first they needed information.

“Now then,” said Pete, hopping up backwards to sit on the desk facing Brendon and Ryan. “Word on the street is you two haven’t exactly been behaving yourselves.”

“Go to hell, Wentz,” Brendon snapped. “Oh wait, I forgot. You’re already there. Peter the vegetarian vampire.” They both snickered. Pete rolled his eyes and didn’t rise to the bait:

“Well the synth blood seems to do well enough,” he said, “Seeing as I’m clearly stronger than both of you. Making it doesn’t get vampires _killed,_ either, which is more than I can say for the procurement methods _you_ two have been using lately.”

“Do we look dead?” said Ryan. 

“Kinda,” said Joe.

“Not that kind of dead, you idiot,” Ryan glared at him, and Joe felt another twinge of sadness for the lost kid Ryan had once been.

“We’re more alive than ever,” Brendon said. “Don’t know what you’re missing, Wentz.

“I could hazard a guess,” Pete said mildly.

“No,” Brendon actually sounded earnest. “I’m serious. Why are you wasting your time with them?” he indicated the humans, then addressed the other vampires: “Or you, for that matter? You should join us.”

“I killed your sire,” Pete reminded him.

“And made me the leader of the Dandies,” Brendon grinned, flashing his teeth.

“I think Gabriel Saporta would have something to say about that,” said Patrick.

“He was your sire too Peter,” Brendon ignored Patrick. “We’re brothers. Come over to my side and realize your potential.”

Pete gave the handcuffed Brendon a pointed look, and then suddenly - Brendon lunged. Both his hands came forward at the same time, because he’d broken the handcuffs, and Ryan was right behind him. 

“Shit!” Joe yelped and aimed his crossbow. Brendon was on top of Pete, slamming him onto the desktop. Then the tall guy grabbed Joe from behind, because Patrick and the others had taken their eyes off of him while they tried to subdue Brendon and Ryan. Frank was fighting with the girl and Mikey with the shorter guy; Patrick was trying to dart Brendon with holy water, and Andy was trying to stake Ryan, who was holding him at bay. “Guys, help!” Joe yelled. The vampire restraining him opened his jaws. Joe struggled, panicked. The vampire bowed his head towards Joe’s neck - Joe’s heart pounded faster and faster as though it knew it was on it's last beats, his blood froze -

\- And then the vampire released him, stumbling backwards, and crumpled. He collapsed, and Joe saw the stake in his back as he did so. Quickly, his eyes glazed over, the twitch of his fingers stilled and his body went totally limp. Joe looked up.

A girl stood behind the vampire with her own crossbow in hand. The first thing Joe thought was ‘she saved me’ and the second thing he thought was ‘holy shit, she’s gorgeous!’. The girl was maybe his own age or a little older, with dark curly hair, olive skin and big dark eyes. She was shorter than him, and slight, but the firm set of her jaw and hard look in her eyes would prevent anybody from calling her ‘cute’, and she was holding the crossbow like a professional.

“Um,” said Joe.

More hunters fanned into the room now, from beyond the broken-in doorway. They were all dressed in black, Joe noted, combat trousers and vests and boots as though they were part of some kind of militia.

“Get out of the way,” snapped the girl, and raised her crossbow again. Joe was too shocked to protest that he could shoot perfectly well, thanks, and just stood aside, as the girl aimed at Brendon who was already backed up against the wall by two of her group members.The new group were incredibly efficient. Within seconds, only Brendon and Ryan were left alive, and both were held at by with stakes aimed directly at their hearts.

“Shall we finish them?” asked another of the hunters.

“No,” said another man. He was older than the rest of them, tall and lean with long reddish-blonde curls pulled back and affixed with a black band. “You heard what Brandon said. He wants these alive.”

“What about them?” the girl who had saved Joe indicated Pete, Mikey and Frank.

“Woah, hey, uh, hang on now,” Pete put both hands up with his palms out. “Not that we’re not glad of the help, but what do you mean, ‘what about them’? We’re the good guys.”

“The only good vampire is a dead vampire,” said one of the hunters.

“They aren’t Dandies,” said the older guy. “The mission was to take out the rogue Dandies and bring their leaders in for interrogation.”

“And I suppose we follow Brandon’s orders to the letter,” said the girl. “As usual.”

“Brandon holds this operation together,” said the older guy sharply. “As you know. Get them in the van,” he gestured Brendon and Ryan again, and some of his people hustled them out of the room, restrained.

“Okay wait, hold up,” said Pete. “Who is Brandon? Who are _you_ people?”

“Brandon Flowers,” said Andy, who was staring at the new hunters with recognition. “Leader of The Killers. And Dave Keuning,” he addressed the older man. “His second-in-command.”

“Hurley,” the man nodded shortly. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“I thought you quit,” Andy said. 

“Yeah well,” Keuning shrugged. “Looks like we’re needed again. Especially now. Are you _with_ them?” he gestured to Pete, then the Way clan vampires.

“It’s a long story,” said Andy.

“Must be,” Keuning raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, I guess we’ll see you around. I know you’re kind of a loner, but get in touch when you ditch the fangs if you ever want a new crew.”

Andy didn’t say anything further, and Keuning and his people started to file out of the office.

“Wait!” said Joe, and ran up to the girl that had saved him. He had a sudden, intense feeling that if he didn’t talk to her, she would walk out of his life and he would miss his shot at getting to know a brave, smart and extremely beautiful girl with a lethal bow arm (and a possible hatred of all vampires, but that would be for the future). “I, uh-?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I didn’t thank you properly. For saving me.”

She shrugged. “No big deal.”

“It was a big deal to me! I like living.” 

And she chuckled.

“I’m Joe,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake.

“Jessica.” She shook it. Her hand was much smaller than his, with short, practical nails and callouses from her training, but her grip was surprisingly strong. Joe’s heart beat almost as hard as it had when the vampire was attacking him.

“Would you - um - can I...”

“Jess, come on!” said one of her friends.

“Can I buy you a drink some time? To say thank you,” Joe blurted. “I mean. Not an alcoholic drink. Unless you’d want that. We don’t have to go to a bar, I mean, if you wouldn’t want to. I’m not trying to be weird. I could buy you a coffee. If you like coffee.”

“I like coffee fine.” She smiled, a hint of mischief glittering in her eyes. “But considering I _did_ save your life and all, I think you could spring for a beer.”

“Yes!” Joe yelped. “Uh, yes. I could absolutely buy you a beer. What’s your number?” They exchanged cell phones briefly.

“Jessica, we have to go,” called the guy in charge.

“So I’ll call you,” Joe said, as she left behind the others.

She winked and gave him a mock-salute with two fingers, and his stomach flipped. He had just met the coolest girl in the world, and she had given him her number.

  
  


*

  
  


“What the hell was that?” Patrick asked Andy, hearing his voice go up a bit as they got home, having deposited their heavier weapons back at the warehouse and locked up. “You know those people?”

“Not really,” Andy shook his head. He’d been silent the whole ride home, concentrating on driving, with his don’t-disturb-me face on. To be fair there had been traffic, but now they were all inside Patrick needed to know what his story was. None of the others seemed particularly concerned - Pete had busied himself cleaning a small gun he kept at the apartment, and Joe was sprawled on the couch with a stupid smile on his face. “I mean - I’ve met them. Back in the day, when I was hunting with the others. Flowers was always kind of a militant. But I guess...so were we.” He shrugged.

“So he’s like some kind of human supremacist?” Patrick asked.

“Supremacist is a heavy word. They did kind of just save our asses dude,” Joe spoke up.

“No offense Joe but I don’t think you’re exactly impartial right now,” said Pete.

“What do you mean?” said Joe.

“Uhhh, the big droopy heart eyes? The blatant staring? The bad proposition? Come on man, you’re tryna bang that chick with the crossbow. Can’t say I blame you, she was hot. Probably wild in bed,” Pete was sounding deliberately casual, but he didn’t look up from his task the whole time he was talking. Joe spluttered:

“I am not _trying to bang her_! Don't be gross! I asked her on a date because she’s awesome and I like her!”

“Oh, fantastic. He _likes_ her,” said Pete sarcastically.

“Pete just be quiet for a minute,” said Patrick. “What do you know about Flowers, Andy?”

“Well, he’s a big-league hunter,” Andy said thoughtfully, walking into the kitchen area to get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. “Reputation for major efficiency. People called his gang The Killers and they kind of - took it up themselves. We looked up to them, to be honest. Lots of hunters did. He only took on the most skilled people - that guy you saw, Keuning, is kind of his right-hand man. It was well known he wasn’t a fan of the treaties, but I never heard of him outright breaking the law or anything. Around the same time that my group - split up - The Killers all went quiet. I guess. I was kind of - away from the hunting communities for a while. But for sure, by the time I got back into it, people weren’t talking about them nearly as much, and I didn’t hear about their kills. I haven’t seen them in...nearly six years. I guess with these new Dandy murders, Flowers has decided to come out of retirement.”

“So what, his solution is to shoot first and ask questions later?” Patrick asked.

“Probably not ask questions at all. They aren’t called The Killers for nothing.”

Patrick grimaced. Combined with the anti-vampire sentiment they were seeing in the media, he really, really did not like the sound of this. What was it one of them had said _‘The only good vampire is a dead vampire’._

“Look,” said Joe. “Maybe they have some messed up ideas. So did we! If we’d never met any good vampires we’d probably be the same.”

“He can’t have been a hunter for like - however many years - and not met one single vampire who wasn’t a raging murderer,” Patrick said.

“You don’t know that. Look, when I go out with Jess-”

“Oh my God,” said Pete, rolling his eyes dramatically. “He’s using nicknames.”

“Well it’s alright for you Pete!” Joe sat up suddenly. He looked mad. “We don’t all have a psychic vampire bond with our boyfriend-slash-best-friend who we happened to meet barely out of high school! Maybe some of us would like the chance to go on dates like a normal person! Is that okay, or do I need a freaking authorization form?”

_“Why does it have to be with a human supremacist?!”_ Pete yelled.

“If she’s a human supremacist so were you, before you became a vampire!” Joe yelled back. “Were you sitting vampires down to interview them about their feeding habits? I don’t fucking think so!”

“Both of you shut up!”

Abrupt silence. Patrick didn’t think he’d ever heard Andy raise his voice before, and he jumped. 

“Pete, Joe can date whoever he wants,” Andy said calmly. “Joe, I don’t particularly think this is a good idea, but it's up to you. Just try to get information out of her, okay? Who’s in The Killers now, what do they want, what are Brandon’s long-term plans, if any?”

“I think we can guess what they want,” Pete said acidly.

“Pete, you aren’t helping,” said Andy.

“I’ll talk to her,” Joe shrugged. “But this isn’t a mission, guys. This is my personal life. I am having a personal life now, okay?”

Pete’s eyes narrowed, and Patrick knew he was about to say something they would all regret. He grabbed Pete’s hand: “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to our room.”


	3. Chapter 3

Joe checked his hair in the mirror a final time before finally giving up and just shaking it out, letting it resort to its natural curly mass. Hee wasn’t usually self conscious. Normally he wouldn’t have given his hair a second thought, but it seemed to have chosen tonight to become particularly out of control. Maybe he should just buzz it. It would be more practical for hunting anyway. He was experimentally flattening his hair to his head with his hands when Andy appeared behind him.

“Uh,” said Joe with his hands on his head.

“I wasn't going to ask,” said Andy. “I was just going to tell you to be careful tonight.”

“Why would I need to be careful? I’m not a vampire.”

“No,” Andy leaned against the doorframe. There wasn’t really room for him to come into the apartment bathroom properly while Joe stood in front of the sink. “But you hunt with one. And you don’t actually know this girl or her group at all.”

“What are you thinking?” Joe frowned. “That it's a setup?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God, Andy, not you too. Is it so unbelievable she could actually want to go out with me?”

“You’re very defensive lately.”

“Yeah well.” Joe shrugged, annoyed. The truth was, he did feel defensive these days, about a lot of things. Like his right to a personal life. And his songwriting skills, which okay, weren’t on Patrick’s level, but Joe frankly thought were good enough to have a little bit more input than he was currently getting. So excuse him if he wanted one evening of not thinking about work, or danger, just grabbing a drink with a cool girl whom he happened to find extremely attractive. It didn’t seem like a huge ask. “I’ve got to get going.” He brushed past Andy, who stepped out of the way, and jogged down to the subway stop at the corner of the street. He really should get a car, he thought suddenly. Once they earned out the advance on the album and got an actual paycheck, he should totally be able to get something secondhand.

He hoped Jess didn’t think guys without cars were losers.

They’d arranged to meet at a bar named Buddy’s in central Chicago. It was fairly popular with hunters. It was her choice, but Joe had been there a couple of times, mostly looking for information. It wasn’t generally so loud that you couldn’t talk, and the drinks selection was decent, so it pretty much satisfied all of Joe’s criteria. He was early, because he was nervous, so he sat at the bar and sipped on a beer with an eye on the doorway, fantasising about being stood up even though Jess wasn’t even due for another twenty minutes. A small group of college guys came in, then an older couple with their arms linked, then three girls laughing together about something, then - nothing. Several minutes passed. 

“You okay man? You look worried,” said the bartender.

“Yeah. It’s just-”

“Sorry, am I late?” Jessica slid onto the stool next to him. She was wearing a short black jacket and black jeans with a white blouse, and her hair was pulled up in an elaborate twisty thing that made ringlets fall around her face. She looked - beautiful - and she looked - like she’d made an effort. Like she cared. Joe wasn’t good at judging if girls were wearing makeup, unless it was very obvious, but he thought she might have mascara on and maybe a hint of lipstick. His heart skipped a beat.

“You’re right on time,” he said.

“Great!” she said brightly. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Oh God, she wasn’t even fussy. She was perfect. Joe was pretty sure she was a perfect human being. He got her drink and said,

“So um - how are you? How have you been?”

“Busy. Those fangs are keeping us on our toes,” she rolled her eyes.

“Brendon and Ryan?” Joe felt a twinge of guilt. He’d almost forgotten about them. “What are you - uh -..”

“We’re interrogating them,” she gave him an odd look. “Of course. They’re killing people, Joe.”

“Right, right,” he nodded. “It’s just - I knew Ryan before, a bit.”

“Ah yeah. That can be rough. But you’ve got to remember it's not _him -_ it's not the kid you knew. It's best to think of them as having died, I think. You know, for closure.” She sipped her drink.

“In Ryan’s case. I guess. You’re right,” he said. She gave him that look again, then shrugged. They moved on and talked about other things, like movies and music - she liked classic rock and some punk - and she asked how he’d gotten into hunting and he’d almost forgotten he was supposed to get information until she said,

“At the office….it almost seemed like you and those fangs were working together.”

“We were,” said Joe.

She blinked.

“They’re good guys,” Joe explained. “Pete is my friend, and the other two are like, friends of his, and they don’t drink human blood at all. They just want to stop people from getting killed, same as we do.”

“Why...would they want that? What do you mean they don’t drink human blood? They must do.”

“There’s a like - there’s a formula, “ Joe gestured with his hands, “Which they drink to survive without killing humans.”

“And you believe that,” she said slowly.

“I know it. I live with Pete.”

She stared. Then she downed the rest of her beer in one gulp and put the glass on the counter. Joe gestured for the bartender to get them another around, but he was busy.

“Look,” said Jessica, her dark eyes serious. “I’ll level with you. I like you, Joe. Like, more than I’ve liked any guy in…a long time. And I think you like me too. And I feel like there’s some chemistry between us. Am I right?”

“Yes!” Joe exclaimed.

“But there are no _good guy_ vampires. They are what they are. They can act human, sure. Most even keep to the treaties because they don’t want to be hunted. But you can’t - _be friends_ with them. You can’t _trust_ them. Sooner or later, something will happen, and their true nature will come out.”

“No,” said Joe. “I’m sure of it. Pete is still Pete. The guy he always was. I used to think the same way as you, until I saw different.”

“Hmm,” said Jess, and sipped her drink.

“So,” said Joe uncomfortably. “You work for Brandon Flowers.”

“Yes,” said Jessica: “He’s a good man.”

“How did you - like - get involved with him?”

“Vampires killed my family,” said Jessica flatly. “Drained them. They saw my parents as food and nothing more.”

“Oh,” said Joe.

“Then Brandon’s people killed those same vampires,” Jessica shrugged. “So I looked them up. They took me in, trained me - and here I am.”

“That’s - understandable,” said Joe.

“So. You can see I consider it strange that you literally hang out with a vampire.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” said Joe quickly. “Let’s get another drink.”

Jessica considered. “I’m up for that,” she said at last. Joe gestured the bartender again.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


“She. Is. Perfect,” Joe lay back on the couch, looking more stoned than Patrick had seen since the night his old dealer had cut the weed with something dubious.

“Okay,” said Patrick.

“He’s in love,” said Pete dryly. “Great.”

“Shut up Pete,” Joe snapped. “You’re in love too.”

“I’m in love with _Patrick,”_ said Pete. “You’re in love with a human supremacist.”

“Stop calling her that!” said Joe, then he sat up and ran a hand through his curls, blowing hsi breath out. “Look you’ll just - you’ll all have to meet her, okay? You’ll all have to meet each other properly. That will sort it out.”

“Meet her? You’ve been on one date,” said Patrick doubtfully.

“Well, I can’t fault him on that score,” said Pete, looking at Patrick with hearts in his eyes: “I knew I loved you before I knew you existed.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Patrick, but felt his cheeks pink despite himself, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” said Andy slowly. “If we’re very careful, and meet on our territory.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Pete crossly. “How do I know she won’t try to stake me on sight?”

“Even if she does, there’s four of us, and only one of her,” said Andy. 

“You can hide behind me honey,” said Patrick dryly.

“Well, I might do that,” Pete sniffed.

“Look guys,” said Andy patiently. “This is our best chance to figure out what’s going on with The Killers. I’m concerned. I might have looked up to Brandon Flowers once, but his people have the potential to be a major disruptive factor in human-vampire relations.”

“I’m a hunter, not a diplomat,” complained Pete.

“You’re also a vampire,” Andy pointed out. “Keeping the peace is in your interest.”

“Ugh, fine,” Pete threw himself down in his own chair dramatically. “You owe me,” he pointed at Joe.

“Actually, I have something for you,” Joe brightened suddenly. “And you too, Patrick. I was going to give it to you earlier but I got, uh. Distracted. With getting ready.”

“I’m shocked,” said Pete. Joe ignored him and ran into his bedroom, before coming back with a handful of papers. “I printed them off at the library,” he said proudly. Patrick cast an eye over the first sheet of guitar tabs.

“Cool,” he said. “I mean it relies a lot on fourth and fifth power chords, but we can develop that.”

“What’s wrong with power chords?” said Joe. “I like power chords, power chords rock.”

“Nothing,” said Patrick. “It’s just, there’s a lot of them. Like, a C section would add some variation, or we could do the bridge like-” He felt the gears in his head turn, the ones that started up and kept turning whenever he got to thinking about music. Absently he grabbed a pen from the table and started crossing out chunks of Joe’s bridge, writing in some alternatives and suggested ornamentation.

“Oh okay,” said Joe. “Fine, I guess.”

Patrick barely heard him. He could already hear the melody in his head, and he was starting to get ideas for a bassline he was sure Pete could handle, with some practice. He was vaguely aware that Joe and Andy were sharing a look about something, but whatever. This was important. 

“Does it have a name?” Patrick asked Joe.

“Not yet,” Joe said. “You can call it what you want, I guess.”

“Well, you should name it. It’s your song.”

“Okay,” said Joe. “I’ll think about it. Well, I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight,” said Patrick absently, and continued writing.

*

“Wow” Mikey sounded genuinely impressed. “That was _awesome.”_

Patrick grinned - the only kind of compliments he really liked were compliments on his songwriting ability. “Well, Joe wrote it really,” Patrick told him modestly. “I just polished it up.”

“I’d say you did more than polish it up,” said Joe, and Patrick blinked. He’d just gotten a strange wave of feeling from Joe, via the residual empathy he got from his bond with Pete. Joe turned his face away, lifting his guitar strap over his head and putting the instrument down at the side of Fall Out Boy’s practice space. Well, not _their_ practice space - the label rented out a studio attached to a small stage and booked their bands in set slots. Mikey wasn’t much for effusion, but Patrick could tell he was very impressed with it all. He’d shared a little more about his own on-off music work - apparently the last time Mikey he had played semi-professionally was as a session pianist back in the thirties. He’d done a mix of recording and bar work, and it had been fun - quite often Bob had drummed for him. But he’d said that it wasn’t the same as having your own, regular band. Obviously. Plus when some humans figured out he was a vampire - or vampires figured out he was a Way - it could go pretty bad pretty quickly.

So it seemed pretty strange to Patrick that Joe would be feeling such negative emotions. They were living so many people’s dreams. But that had almost felt like resentment. Not that Patrick was an expert in classifying emotions, his own or other people's. 

“Anyway,” Joe said. “We should be getting back. Jess will be over in like an hour.”

“Who’s Jess?” said Mikey.

“Joe’s human supremacist girlfriend,” said Pete.

“Pete stop it,” said Andy. Patrick shot him a grateful look. Maybe they needed to be more understanding, if Joe was feeling like this.

Mikey’s consternation must have shown on his face, because Pete told him,

“She works for Brandon Flowers.”

Mikey felt his eyes widen. “Oh my God,” he said. “Joe…”

“It’s not like that!” Joe almost yelled.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Mikey promised Pete. “You need to be careful.”

The vampires shared a look and Patrick could tell they were communicating psychically. It didn't make him jealous anymore, but he felt like they weren’t helping things right now. 

“Let’s just go,” said Andy, putting his drumsticks away. They spent a few minutes signing things for the kids that were now a regular fixture outside the studio, then made for the truck - the label didn’t see fit to chauffeur them back and forth to their regular practice sessions yet. Today that was a good thing, because Pete had insisted that if they were meeting Jessica, they were doing it at the warehouse not the apartment. Joe had rolled his eyes but it hadn’t seemed worth fighting about, so pretty soon they were sitting around the central table which was laid out with coffee and artificial blood. Patrick felt weirdly like a parent waiting to meet his kid’s significant other. On the hour, there was a knock at the door - Joe jumped up and checked the security camera.

“It’s Jess!” he said, then he froze. 

“What?” Pete demanded.

“She’s uh -,” Joe swallowed. “She’s not alone.”


	4. Chapter 4

“She’s _what?_!” Pete yelled, jumping up to stand behind Joe. “Is Flowers with her?”

“No,” said Joe quickly. “I don’t think so. It’s a couple of guys who were at the office with her. The one that was in charge - Dave or whatever - and another one.”

“So much for only one of them and four of us,” Pete glared at Andy.

“Pete if you’re going to be deliberately hostile before we’ve even-” Joe said.

“How can I not be hostile, Joe?! Those people want to kill me!”

“Both of you wait here,” said Andy. “Patrick, come with me.”

Andy didnt use his authoritative voice very often, but when he did, people tended to listen. He had, after all, been hunting for longer than any of them, in addition to being the closest thing to an actual responsible adult. Patrick figured he was probably being sensible, so he shot Pete a look and attempted to convey both reassurance and a request to behave, before grabbing a dagger and sheath from the wall and concealing it in his jeans. 

Joe’s girlfriend was stood on the porch, with Dave Keuning behind her on one side and a younger guy Patrick thought he remembered on the other. They kind of gave off the appearance of body guards, but they weren’t pointing weapons in anybody’s face. 

“Hey,” said Jessica. “Uh, where’s Joe?”

“Inside,” Andy said. “Why are these here?”

“Well you know,” Jessica shrugged. “They wanted to come. Seeing as I’m meeting Joe’s crew, I figured you should meet some of mine.”

“We don’t send our people to meet with vampires alone,” said Keuning. “Or at all if we can help it. I have to say I’m surprised at _you,_ Hurley. Thought you had more sense than this.”

“I’ve learned some things,” said Andy.

“So….” Jess looked pointedly past them.

“Are you armed?” said Andy.

“Always” said Keuning. “But you can relax. We’re not here for a fight.”

“Just to…even up the numbers,” said the other guy. Patrick looked at Andy. Andy paused. Then,

“Alright,” he said at last. “Come in.”

The instant the Killers crew entered the main room, all of their eyes went to Pete, who was standing and leaning against a counter that curved around into the kitchen. Pete stared coolly back at them. Jess pulled her eyes away pretty promptly, and went over to Joe, greeting him with a quick kiss on the cheek, which made him blush. The two of them sat down next to each other, and the other two Killers took seats on the far side of the room. Patrick gravitated to Pete without realizing, and took a seat at the counter. Andy sat in the middle.

“Okay so….this is Jessica,” Joe said. “Jess, these are my friends, Andy, Patrick and Pete.”

“I know their names,” she grinned. “That’s Dave, he’s second-in-command in our crew, and that’s my friend Jose.”

“So you call yourselves hunters,” Keuning said.

“We are hunters,” said Andy.

“What does _he_ hunt?” Keuning jerked his chin towards Pete.

“ _I_ hunt vampires,” Pete said. “Among other things.”

“You hunt your own kind.” It wasn’t a question, more like a sceptical statement.

“Yeah,” said Pete. “If they need to be hunted. I presume you think humans who commit crimes need to be brought to justice.”

“Naturally,” said Keuning.

“Like humans who break the treaties, for example.”

“We keep the treaties,” said Jose. “We might not agree with them, but we keep them. No-one’s staked you, have they?”

“Brandon never was a fan of the treaties,” Andy said carefully. “What’s he doing these days, anyway? Rumour was he quit hunting after he lost his eye.”

“He doesn’t go out on missions so much anymore,” said Jess. “He’s more like - the organizer. And trainer.”

“He’s the boss,” said Jose.

“What’s his problem with the treaties?” Pete wanted to know.

“Well obviously they don’t go far enough,” Keuning said, his eyes going pointedly from Pete to Patrick and back again. “Luckily more and more people are realizing. The movement’s picking up.”

“The Families First of America thing,” Patrick realised with a sinking feeling. “Or whatever bullshit it's called.”

“They’re a good group,” said Jose calmly, before Keuning cut in with,

“Alright, enough niceties. Let’s cut to the chase. Brandon isn’t happy with one of our people associating with a vampire sympathiser.”

“Brandon isn’t my _dad,”_ said Jessica, for the first time sounding like a college-age kid rather than a seasoned hunter.

“No, he isn’t,” Keuning agreed. “We all know you do what you want. But you,” he pointed at Joe. “You better be on your guard. You’ve been hunting for a handful of years and you seem to think you’re some sort of vampire expert. That’s dangerous.” He looked at Pete. “ _You,”_ he said. “Just remember: the Killers are a powerful crew. We have strong allies and eyes all over this city. You try anything - _anything -_ you step one inch outside the letter of the treaties and we will hunt you down faster than you will realize what’s happening. And you…..” he turned to Patrick, finally, and his expression was of mingled pity and distaste. “I have no idea what’s wrong with you, but maybe you should...try getting therapy or something.”

“Thanks for your input,” said Patrick frostily. He could feel Pete’s rage through the bond, but he was pretty sure the desire to punch Keuning right in his superior hipster face was entirely his own.

“Hurley,” said Keuning, and gave Andy a short nod before he stood up. They all stood - Joe and Jessica retreated to a corner for a few minutes, talking quietly, then she stood on tiptoes to give him a quick goodbye kiss.

“I’ll call you later,” Patrick heard Joe say.

“Okay so,” Pete said. “That was culty.”

“It was kind of culty,” agreed Patrick.

“Like I’m sure she’s a nice girl and all, Joe, but she’s _deep_ in this shit.”

“She’s not a robot,” Joe argued. “You heard her, Brandon’s not her father.”

“Nah, he’s just her guru. Come on man. Haven’t you ever seen one of those documentaries, where people live out on a farming commune and like, follow the teachings of the master? That’s how mass murder-suicides happen, Joe. Do you really wanna be in a mass murder-suicide? I don’t think you do.”

“Don’t blame that kind of shit on farming communes,” said Andy. “Farming communes are awesome.”

Joe flipped them all off, grabbed a beer from the fridge and retreated to his bedroom.

“I’ll talk to him,” Andy sighed. “Later.” Then he left, taking his water bottle and ipod, so probably going running.

“How are you doing with that bassline?” Patrick asked Pete, feeling the need for a change of subject. Clearly Pete did too, but disagreed on what the new subject should be, because he grinned wickedly and said,

“It’s coming….but I think my rhythm needs practice.” Then he climbed on top of Patrick and started trying to make out with him - Patrick rolled his eyes at the terrible line but he gave in after a moment and started kissing back, which rapidly led to their bedroom - Pete could be inconsiderate of their roomates when it came to sex, but jizz on the communal couch would be a bit much even by his standards. Afterwards, when the bond was still humming and sparking and Patrick was still so surreally conscious of Pete, not just the contact of his body but the contours of his mind and landscape of his emotions, he said,

“Do you ever think about the future?”

It just came out. He hadn’t been consciously thinking it. Maybe feeling it. Hell, maybe Pete had originated the idea, it was hard to tell at these moments. Pete propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Patrick.

“What do you mean?” he said. “What about the future?”

“Like - longer term.” Patrick sat up, back against the headboard, and pulled the sheets over them both. “I mean - this bond thing, it’s pretty permanent, right?”

“Well, yes,” said Pete. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is!” Patrick said quickly. “Of course it is! I could never go back to not having this, now I’ve felt what it's like. But I mean - I’m gonna get older. It's been three years already. I’m gonna _age,_ Pete, and you’re gonna stay the same.”

“Oh my God, ‘Rick,” Pete groaned and sat up abruptly, jerking the sheets away. “Don’t tell me this segregation bullshit is getting inside your brain now. Don’t let them do that. Don’t give them that power, please.”

“No! I'm not! I never would! You are the only person I want, Pete.” Patrick could feel Pete shielding his mind, so he tried to reassure him verbally. Not his strong suit, and particularly not when he was flustered. “I’m just worried I won’t be - enough. Someday. Like, I’ll be old and wrinkled and probably start forgetting shit, and you’ll still be young and gorgeous and powerful and - and -....”

“So...what are you saying, Patrick?” Pete asked slowly, lowering himself back down and leaning on his elbow again, so he was regarding Patrick through a fringe of dark eyelashes. “Are you asking me to turn you too?”

Patrick was silent. Finally:

“I don’t know,” he said.

“But you’re thinking about it,” said Pete.

“It - you make it look pretty tempting,” Patrick admitted.

“Well,” Pete said, turning onto his back and looking at the ceiling. “Well. It’s not that great. People wanting to kill you and all just for existing.”

“Would you go back?” Patrick asked. “If you could, I mean.”

Pete shrugged. “I try not to think about it. There’s no point. I can’t go back, so why wonder about it? It is what it is.”

“I guess.”

“It’s a hell of a thing to ask someone to turn you though. Plus, wouldn’t that make you like, my vampire child? Cos that would be pretty gross, given the circumstances.”

“The siring thing is entirely metaphorical, Pete.”

“Does that mean you would call me Daddy?” Pete side-eyed him, and Patrick hit him with a pillow.

“It was only a thought, anyway,” he said, and settled down to sleep.

  
  


*

  
  


“No, Bohemian Rhapsody _is_ their best song,” Joe said. “Technically speaking. I’m just saying overall, _Sheer Heart Attack_ is the superior album.”

“Yeah well you’re wrong,” Jess told him flatly.

“The guitar work is superior,” Joe objected.

“Is that your professional opinion?” she teased.

“Hey, I am a professional!” he said mildly.

“Mmm, I know, it's all very sexy.” Jessica grinned, and they leaned in simultaneously to kiss each other. It was a warm day, and they’d spread out a blanket under a massive oak tree in Lincoln Park. Sounds from the zoo drifted over the warm air, and children tossed a football back and forth in the fine spray from the fountain. 

“Ah, my cunning plan to become a guitarist and get girls is working,” Joe joked when they separated again, and Jess laughed:

“Girls eh? Not sure I like that plural!”

They fell silent, the rhythmic noise of the fountain splashing an almost hypnotic background. It was nice, Joe reflected - with other girls, he’d felt the need to talk almost all of the time, like if they were silent for long she might think he was dumb or boring. With Jess it was different. Silence between them felt - comfortable. Like they understood where the other was coming from. Maybe it was because they were both hunters and had thus seen their fair share of similar shit at a relatively young age. He hadn’t asked Jess for details about her past - he figured she would tell him when she was ready. But here under the tree on a sunny day in Lincoln Park, it was almost like they were just a regular young couple, sharing time without a care in the world. True, their respective crews hadn’t exactly hit it off, but all that seemed quite far away at the moment. Joe had carefully saved the texts they’d exchanged later on the night of that meeting:

_Don’t worry - we’ll figure it out._

_I really, really like you. x._

_I really like you too. Xx._

Oh shit, he’d thought - should he have put two kisses? She had started the kiss thing but then he’d gone and upped the ante and maybe it was too forward. But she’d just answered:

_I won’t lie, I still think it's weird. But Pete sticks to the treaties so I guess I can get used to him._

And ‘get used to him’ suggested that Jess meant to stick around. It meant longer term. Long term, even. Joe texted:

_You will. He’s great, honestly, you’ll realize when you get to know him._

Then she’d changed the subject and they’d made plans for their park date. The illusion of peace was shattered when Jess’s cell rang, and she answered it with an efficient,

“Situation?” She paused to listen to whoever was on the phone. “Okay. Okay, no Another pause. “The L stop on the corner of 63rd? Sure, if you bring the stuff….oh okay, that should be fine then. Give me thirty minutes.” 

“Sorry,” she said to Joe when she hung up, sounding genuinely so. “Bit of an urgent job. There’s some rogue vamps causing chaos, not even Dandies. They’re getting damn bold.”

Joe’s heart sank. He realized he was starting to miss Jess whenever they weren’t together. She looked at him for a moment, then she said,

“You could come.”

“I don’t have my hunting gear,” Joe said.

“The guys are bringing plenty. We probably shouldn't try to take weapons on the metro in any case,” she grinned.

“Will - anybody mind?” Joe hesitated.

“Nah, we could use the help. Don’t mind Dave. He acts tough, but it's only because he cares.”

“In that case,” Joe made a decision, stood up and brushed the grass off his jeans. “Let’s do it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just a note to say the next update will be a bit delayed as I'm moving house, but don't worry, it is coming.
> 
> Also I just realized my auto-correct has been changing Dave Keuning to Keunig. Like the coffee machine. *Facepalm*. I will correct this at some point.

They got off at a metro stop near the university, surrounded by chattering students toting book bags and sports equipment. For a fraction of a second, Joe wondered what his life would be like right now if he’d followed his parents wishes and taken up the place Chicago U had offered him. Then the tram lurched and he had to hustle to avoid getting pushed over as everyone rushed to get out onto the platform. He shook his head. He followed Jess up the steps, where she stood and scanned the sidewalk, before nodding and waving to some of her crew who were emerging from a nearby building. The elusive Flowers was still absent, but Dave Keuning was there, plus a very tall, ginger guy in a black jacket and a woman Joe had never seen before. Both men were carrying tote bags of the type Joe recognised could disguise weapons. When they saw Joe, Dave and the woman exchanged a look.

“Well,” said Dave, but he didn’t sound angry. “I see you brought a friend.”

“If they're strong we could use an extra,” Jess shrugged. 

“As long as Jess trusts him, I’m sure we can,” said the very tall guy. He had a calm, measured voice a bit at odds with his appearance.

“Yeah alright,” Dave shrugged. “I assume you don’t have any qualms about taking out fangs that are drinking from hospital patients?”

“Nope, that sounds worthy of a staking” Joe agreed. “The university hospital, I’m guessing?”

“Tonight, yes, if we’ve finally figured out their pattern correctly. They’re rotating locations, sneaking in by service entrances after dark, and we think we’ve finally figured out their pattern. Anthea and I are gonna watch one and you and Jessica can take the other. Mark, you go with them.”

“There’s still a good hour and a half until nightfall,” Jess was checking her phone. “But I guess it can’t hurt to be ready and waiting.”

They split up, taking opposite directions to circle around to the hospital entrances.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


“I still don’t like it,” Gerard said.

“I’m shocked,” said Mikey dryly.

“Look we don’t have a lot of choice right now,” said Frank. He was busy checking the zips on a plain black backpack, when he then tossed to Mikey, who caught it. “Until Geoff and the guys get can back in business we’re just going to have to make do with what we can find. We’ve been doing this for a while now and nobody’s suddenly subject to uncontrollable bloodlust. At least not that I’ve noticed.” He cocked an eyebrow at Gerard cheekily and Gerard rolled his eyes.

“We could ask Patrick,” Gerard said after a long pause. “If he’s had any luck getting S-12.”

“That’s not fair,” Mikey objected. “Pete’s still practically a fledgling. You know perfectly well they’d feel obliged to share, and withdrawing Pete by any amount could seriously mess him up at this stage.”

“Mikey’s right,” said Lindsey, not something she said very often, and Gerard looked begrudgingy like he was listening: “That wouldn’t be fair. Until the Thursday crew can get all the supplements through again, we’ll just have to stick with the blood banks.”

The Way family blood replacement depended on a delicate balance of ingredients. Some natural and some carefully synthesised. They sourced them through a range of suppliers, but the past few weeks, there had been some kind of problem in the supply chain and one of the key ingredients hadn’t gotten to them. Their suppliers, a discreet and trusted company known as Thursday Industries (kind of a grand name for a handful of employees, but whatever), called it S-12, and Mikey didn’t know how it functioned exactly but the formula didn’t work properly without it. The owner, Geoff, had called Gerard personally several times to apologise, but there was nothing he could do. 

“All I can suggest is you utilize a small amount of human blood and mix it in with the other stuff,” Geoff had said. “One part in twenty should do it.”

“We don’t do that,” Gerard had said. And they’d tried, they really had. For a while, they’d been able to source S-12 from relatives around the country, but eventually that dried up too or mysteriously disappeared in transport. Soon it became clear that without proper feeding, cravings for human blood were resurfacing in the clan. Mikey scared himself - found himself looking at humans in clubs and bars as though they were food, not people, thinking of humans he _knew_ and imagining what it would be like to sink his fangs into real flesh for once, to feel a heartbeat slow under him....no, no! That was horrible. He’d never forgive himself. But the thoughts kept coming, more frequently the longer he went on without proper formula. It kept him up in the daytime. So when Lindsey had finally suggested the blood banks, he’d supported her.

“We could go to different places,” she’d suggested. Her normal dignity was frazzling - she was fidgety and tense. “We wouldn’t have to take too much from any one hospital. Plus there are clinics and blood donation centres. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“It could hurt them indirectly,” Gerard had objected, but Mikey could tell he was weakening. He was even more nervy and pale than usual, and couldn’t seem to sit down, pacing back and forth almost constantly and fiddling with his cufflinks. “If someone needed blood and there wasn’t enough.”

“We won’t need much,” Lindsey had argued. “And if we don’t - well, I hate to say it, Gee, but intime one of us could end up hurting a person much more directly.”

Gerard looked shocked.

“She’s right,” Frank said. Rather than frazzled, he just sounded flat and dull. Nothing like himself. “I’ve been having - thoughts.”

“Me too,” Mikey admitted.

“So have I,” Lindsey nodded. “Thoughts about - humans. Things I never dreamed I would catch myself thinking. I’ve been shielding as best I can, but you must have felt it.” She looked at Gerard for a long time. He closed his eyes for a second, then nodded.

“I’ve felt it,” he said. “Feeling it doesn’t mean we have to act on it.”

“It might,” said Ray quietly. “Eventually.”

And Mikey felt Gerard’s mood change, because if Ray - possibly the least aggressive person to ever exist, as a human or vampire, and also the one who tended to agree with Gerard the most - if _Ray_ was feeling the same as the rest of them, it was serious. The Way clan was not a democracy, but nor had it ever been a dictatorship. Gerard in particular always took peoples’ feelings into account.

“What about buying blood?” he said at last. “Aren’t there vampires who buy it from donors rather than kill?”

“A lot of those operations are really shady,” said Frank. “The donors are coerced or desperate. Also some suppliers just kill them and sell the blood. We have to fix this now, Gee. We don’t have time to research responsible sellers.”

Gerard paused. Then:

“Alright,” he had said at last, very quietly. “We’ll try it. As little as we can get away with, and only for as long as we have to.”

And it wasn’t like they were taking much, not even what a single vampire that drank direct from humans would take. A couple of blood bags from varying stockists per week - it was definitely less harm, Mikey reasoned, than doing nothing and having somebody crack at the wrong moment. His main concern was getting caught. So far, they’d either been smart, lucky or a bit of both. For some reason, though, he had a weird feeling about tonight. Maybe it was because they were hitting the University hospital - last time there had been their closest call so far. It was Mikey and Ray’s turn to break in and grab the blood - they’d had several conversations about how many of them should try it at a time, and gradually come down to as few as possible, for discretions sake - one person to grab the blood, one to keep an eye out. It was ultimately a stealth operation after all. Mikey and Ray dressed in street clothes - most of the clan had acquired more modern outfits since the Ways had taken to going out in the world now and then - and Mikey slung Frank’s empty backpack over one shoulder. Dewees drove them down to the university. He parked a few streets off, in case anyone recognised the car, then Ray and Mikey got out and headed for the hospital.

“So we’re using the utilities entrance this time,” Ray said quietly. “Around the back from the West entrance.”

Mikey nodded, and they navigated the walkways in silence. No-one paid them much mind - it was getting dark, but naturally the hospital area was still busy, with ambulances pulling up to the bays, staff striding briskly between buildings, visitors getting in and out of cars and people leaving the ER with casts or bandages. Mikey tried not to think about the people in those ambulances - how some of them might need blood transfusions. It was a large, well-stocked hospital. It was only a couple of bags.

The utilities entrance backed onto a parking lot, barred by steel doors reading ‘STAFF ENTRANCE ONLY’. Huge dumpsters labelled ‘MEDICAL WASTE: HAZARDOUS’ and ‘SHARPS DISPOSAL’ stood on either side. Every so often, porters in scrubs and masks would push a trolley through, sometimes open a dumpster and dispose of some materials, or pick up some packages from a vehicle. Mikey and Ray concealed themselves behind the cab of a truck for several minutes, watching the comings and goings. After a few minutes, a young-looking porter with black hair brought his trolley out, leaving the doors open a little bit as he started unlocking the dumpster. Mikey and Ray looked at each other and nodded. 

“Hey, you can’t go in that way,” the porter objected as they approached. Mikey put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. He really hated to do this. It felt so - manipulative, and could probably end up getting the guy fired. But he reminded himself of his resolution about what was least harmful. As Mikey had learned in his long life, sometimes there were just no good options.

“It’s okay,” he said calmly, lowering his shields and letting his influence flow right over the young man. Mikey couldn’t read his thoughts, but he could sense his feelings, the shape of his mental landscape as it flattened out, softening and becoming pliable to suggestion. As born Ways, he and Gerard had more powerful psychic abilities than most vampires, and he could keep this up for quite a long time if needed, particularly on humans with no training. Mikey had encountered a few hunters who could resist his powers to an extent, but most him humans were easy for him to influence. Every time, it made him feel dirty. Frank, Bob and Ray all had some ability, not enough to actually direct a person’s actions, but with preparation they could inflect a person’s mood or convey a feeling. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I need….you need….I need to see some ID,” said the porter. “Visitors entrance is…”

“We don’t need ID,” Mikey said. “You know us, remember? It's allowed.”

“It’s allowed,” the porter repeated, sounding doubtful.

“Why don’t you just take a break for a few minutes?” Mikey said. “You’re pretty tired, and you? Go sit on that bench over there. No-one will mind.”

“Maybe just for….just for a few minutes,” said the porter distractedly, glancing over at the stone bench, then wandered over to sit down, facing the car park. Ray and Mikey slipped into the corridor, setting the catch on the doors so they wouldn’t be locked inside. This segmented part of the hospital didn’t house patients - it was mostly storage and lab facilities, plus a few teaching rooms.

“Uggggh,” Mikey complained. “I feel so dirty.”

Ray shot him a sympathetic glance as they followed the signs for the blood bank.

  
  


*

  
  


“Oh, shit,” said Joe.

“What? That’s them, look!” Jess thrust the set of binoculars in his face as they peered out of the office window.

“Yeah, I can see,” Joe said.

“Time to go,” the calm tall guy they called Mark opened up his bag, and handed Jess her crossbow before offering Joe his pick.

“Um,” Joe said. 

“What’s the problem?” Jess frowned.

“There’s been some kind of mistake,” Joe shook his head. “Those guys aren’t attacking patients, they can’t be.”

“They are,” Mark said. “We’ve been tracking them.”

“They don’t even drink human blood!” Joe exclaimed.

“They do now,” Jess shrugged and hefted her crossbow. “What are you using?”

Joe froze. He could hear his heart pound in his ears. The Way clan couldn’t be attacking people - could they? Especially not _Mikey._ But then what were they doing in the hospitals? It didn’t make sense. Slowly, almost on autopilot, he picked out the least-lethal weapon he could see - a dart gun he presumed fired holy water.

“Take this too,” Mark handed him a silver blade, which he pocketed. ‘It’s a misunderstanding’, Joe thought. ‘I’ll just - talk to them. Find out what’s going on. It will all be fine’.

“You okay?” Jess frowned, studying his face.

“Sure,” said Joe, his voice coming out a little higher than usual.

She and Mark looked at each other unreadably.

“Alright let’s go,” said Jess, and they moved quietly down the staircase and out into the parking lot.

  
  


*

“Coast’s clear,” Ray said quietly. He was standing outside the double doors to the blood bank, looking up and down the corridor. A few doctors and nurses had passed them by, and Mikey had influenced them to keep walking and promptly forget they had ever seen the vampires. He nodded to Ray, then employed just enough of his strength to break the lock on the doors. That would probably cost someone else their job. Once inside, he opened a large refrigerator unit labelled ‘O positive’ - the most common human blood type, and not a universal donor, so they’d figured it must be the least valuable to the hospital. He grabbed a couple of packets and was just zipping the backpack up when he heard Ray draw in a sharp breath and say 

“Um, this is not what it - _Joe?!”_

Mikey dropped the bag. Blood splattered everywhere. In his state of semi-hunger, it was intoxicating, but Mikey worked to ignore it.

“The other one is inside,” said a male voice, and a second later two humans hustled Ray inside at stakepoint. They were clearly hunters, well-armed and apparently very confident. One was a petite young woman with a mass of dark curls pulled tightly behind her head, and the other an older, redheaded man. They both looked familiar. Mikey quickly recalled he had seen the girl at the office when the Dandy rebels had been captured, but the guy he couldn’t place. Their minds were firmly shuttered and protected - in his panicked state, Mikey realized he couldn’t get into them - he searched for cracks, gaps in their armour, but they were well prepared. There was a seconds pause.

Then Joe Trohman entered behind the hunters. 

‘Okay,’ Mikey thought, painfully aware that he was standing in a pool of human blood. ‘Well, he’s a hunter. This looks bad. Just explain’.

“Corner him,” said the redheaded guy to Joe. Joe raised a dart gun and pointed it at Mikey. Mikey felt his eyes widen. He held his hands up with palms facing outwards, the universal gesture of surrender.

“We got them,” the girl was saying into her phone. “Blood bank by the utilities entrance, get over here.”


	6. Chapter 6

  
Patrick lowered the heavy book to the table. The Dandy library always made him uncomfortable - it was just so big, and so grand, cases and cases of dark wood that stretched up to the arch ceiling. Plus, the whole house held uncomfortable memories for Patrick - Gabriel had rearranged things since the Beckett days, and his style wasn’t quite so flamboyant, but the dark furniture, arcs and curlicues and staircases were all the same, because Gabriel was still a Dandy. But many of the books were too old and fragile to be taken away, and it was nice of Gabriel to let Patrick research here whenever he wanted. Normally he’d be looking up stuff to do with hunting - weapons or potions, weaknesses and strengths of various creatures - but today he was looking for something else.

Mikey had said it was very rare for a human and vampire to bond, but that it had happened. He’d even mentioned a couple of relatives. Patrick had already asked him what happened after they bonded, but he’d said,

“I’m not sure...I think maybe he turned her, eventually? Or did she die? Or did _he_ die? Uh. You’ll have to ask Gerard.”

Patrick didn’t know Gerard Way very well - he seemed nice and all, but they weren’t exactly at the level where Patrick could call him up to discuss the existential crisis he was having over his relationship. So it was back to the books. Most of the older ones didn’t have indexes, so Patrick had to settle for picking out likely titles and scanning the contents pages for anything that looked vaguely related to human-vampire relationships. He thought he’d hit gold when he found a chapter in an old tome called ‘The vampyre and the mortale mayde’, but after the ‘mayde’ somehow survived the vampire drinking from her ‘payle necke, till the moone set and the sune rise from his slumber’ Patrick had to concede he was reading a somewhat overwrought work of fiction.

He sighed and closed the volume, taking care not to rip the fragile bindings. Then he jumped at a quiet noise behind him.

“Don’t mind me,” said Ryland. “Just looking out some accounts.”

“Vampires keep accounts?” Patrick asked.

“The fiscally responsible ones do. Especially if they have a taste for the finer things in life.”

Patrick watched Ryland move across the room in that gliding way mature vampires had when they weren’t trying to act human. The scar on his throat had vanished now, Patrick was glad to see, and his voice sounded like it had when Patrick had first met him. After Pete, Patrick probably trusted Ryland the most out of any vampire. He’d put himself on the line to protect Patrick, after all, and Patrick hadn’t forgotten it. There was something else he hadn’t forgotten, either: a particular conversation he’d had with Ryland while he was a prisoner.

“Hey Ryland, can I ask you something?” said Patrick on impulse.

“You can,” Ryland said. He found the files he was looking for and slid them out of the bookshelf.

“You asked Gabriel to turn you because you were young and you were really sick, right?”

“I did.”

“So….what’s it like being turned?”

Ryland sat down at the table across from Patrick.

“Well,” he said. “That’s….quite a personal question.”

“Sorry,” Patrick blushed. “Forget I asked.”

“No, it's alright. Being turned is like….being born, I suppose. Or maybe more like dying. Or both at the same time I suppose would be the most accurate. It's like, um. Well it hurts. A hell of a lot. But the instant it's done it's like - you forget the pain. You know abstractly that it did hurt but you’ve forgotten what it was like already. There was an old dentist’s drug that did something like it. And then afterwards -....”

“Yes?” Patrick leaned forward eagerly. 

“Gosh, I don’t know how to describe it. It's like trying to explain colour to someone who’s never had sight. It's like your mind sort of - opens up, and you can see and feel and _smell_ the world in ways you never could before.”

“You make it sound so positive.”

“Well, you have to bear in mind, I was twenty-four and I’d been dying by degrees since I was twenty. It was quite the contrast, I can tell you. I could barely recall what it was like to be strong and healthy - then suddenly, I wasn’t just _healthy,_ I was _superhuman_. No offense to humans intended.”

“No,” said Patrick slowly. “I suppose you are in some ways.”

“It wasn’t all fun and games, though. As you’ve seen, the early days are very confusing. All that new information - it's a sort of sensory overload. It literally hurts sometimes, like staring into the sun. But Gabriel was an excellent sire. His reputation preceded him in that. It's why I asked him. He wasn’t easy to find - but there were certain coffee houses that had a reputation for vampire clientele, and if you read the right social papers you could sometimes pick up a few hints on making contact. Vampires were a lot more secretive in those days, of course. Before the treaties and all.”

“You’ve lived such a long time,” Patrick marvelled.

“Ha! Hardly, in vampire terms. Gabriel is twice as old as me, and even he isn’t _old._ Some say there are vampires who have lived a thousand years, though I can’t say I’ve ever met one.”

What must it be like, thought Patrick, to see everything you know disappear into dust, the world change beyond recognition? For every human you’d ever known to age and then die? Though he didn’t like to think about it, Patrick naturally had a vague expectation of outliving his parents by some years - but what about his siblings? What about Andy and Joe? What about - _everyone,_ except for Pete? If he lived long enough, would he sort of - forget them? Was Pete really _all he’d ever need?_

“And what about,” he asked softly. “What about if - you get tired? I know vampires can be killed. But do they ever _die?_ Like - naturally?”

“We don’t die of old age, if that’s what you mean,” Ryland told him. “But if we get tired, we can die.”

“Like - commit suicide? Like stake yourself or something?”

“That would be messy and impractical. Not to mention painful. No, if we get tired, we can just - die.”

“You can _will yourself_ to death?”

“That would be one way of putting it.”

Well, that was alarming. Pete could have some pretty dramatic mood swings, and whilst he’d never said anything to the effect of wanting to die, Patrick could sometimes catch echoes of the intense self-loathing that came over him intermittently. It always passed before he could ever plan anything, but -

“Can you do it by accident?”

“No. Not that I’ve ever heard of, at least. You have to learn how. Which is somewhat difficult seeing as obviously there’s nobody around who can give firsthand instruction. But there are vampires who have willed themselves to the edge of death and come back from it, then written up the experience.”

“Wow.” Patrick pushed the book aside. It was a lot to take in at once. It seemed like there was no end to the amount of things he didn’t know about vampires.

“Why?” Ryland asked. “Are you thinking about being turned?”

“No,” said Patrick after a long moment. “At least - not right now.”

“Sensible. It’s kind of a one-way decision, so if you aren’t sure, wait.”

Patrick nodded. “Thanks Ryland,” he said.

“No problem.”

  
  


*

  
  


Gerard sat up straight. 

“There’s a problem,” he said.

“What?” Lindsey asked, startled.

“Mikey and Ray are in trouble. We have to go.”

“Hunters?” Lindsey asked sharply.

Gerard nodded. “And there’s something else. He’s not spelling it out but I don’t think these are just regular hunters, there’s something especially bad about it. We have to help them.”

“Does he say how many?”

“I think at least four, it's not clear, I don’t know if he knows himself, even.” Gerard was already standing up, reaching for his jacket.

“What are we going to do?” Lindsey fretted. “We don’t know how to _fight!”_

“Well - well we’ll just have to negotiate! Or something! Linds, we can’t just leave them!”

“No of course,” she agreed, also getting up. They grabbed Frank and Bob on the way out, and suddenly all realized that because Dewees was still waiting to pick up Mikey and Ray, one of them would have to drive.

“I’ll do it,” declared Frank. “It’s been the shortest time since I’ve driven.”

“You drive like a maniac!” yelped Bob.

“Let him,” said Gerard grimly. “We don’t have time.”

They piled into the spare car, which was a tight squeeze, and also felt rather treacherous given that the thing was hardly ever used and only started with a wheeze and clanking noise that made it sound like it would fall apart at any moment.

“I just knew something like this would happen,” Gerard was muttering. “I told him. Over and over, I said, Mikey, it's dangerous out there-”

“It’s dangerous in here!” Bob yelled, grabbing the door handle for dear life as Frank steered the car far too fast around a narrow bend. The tyres squealed and a horn blared from somewhere. Frank completely ignored it. They somehow made it to the hospital without causing a pileup, and admittedly extremely quickly. Gerard scanned the parking lot for the regular car but there was no sign of it. He could sense Mikey much more clearly now though, and didnt even feel bad about influencing his way past security and hospital staff, directly to a wing at the back of the hospital (okay he felt bad. But briefly. Mikey and the clan came first). When they reached the blood storage facility, Gerard froze. 

It was bad. It was really bad. Mikey and Ray were held at the business end of a pair of crossbows, and several other hunters had stakes and holy water aimed at them. Ray already had a notable holy water burn on his face and arm. Mikey looked unharmed, but Gerard could feel his panic. Because these weren’t just any hunters.

They were Killers.

And, for some reason, Joseph Trohman from 16 Candles. Flowers hadn’t emerged, but his second, Keuning, was apparently running the show.

“Joe?” exclaimed Frank. Joe looked torn, admittedly. He kept glancing back and forth between the hunters and the Way clan and he was clutching a holy water gun without really doing anything.

“Well,” said Keuning, a slow smile spreading over his face and took in the newcomers. _“This_ is a surprise. Gerard Way himself, actually emerged from his lair. To what do we owe the honor?”

“You’re making a mistake,” Gerard told him. “We’re not hurting anyone.”

One of the other Killers snorted, and Keuning actually laughed:

“What, you’re just breaking into hospitals for kicks? To dispense candy to Make a Wish kids, maybe? Give me a break.”

“Look where we are,” Gerard appealed. “There are no patients here, are there? We’re just taking a little bit of blood, to keep us going, until we can source our substitute again.”

“Oh not this bullshit,” one the Killers Gerard didn’t know rolled his eyes: “You can drop it, Way. Nobody believes you don’t drink from humans.”

“It’s true!” Mikey exclaimed. “Joe, tell them!”

“They don’t,” said Joe, looking like a rabbit trapped in a set of headlights.

“Joe, don’t be naive,” said one of the women. Joe looked at her a bit helplessly.

“Listen,” Gerard thought fast. “Let me link our minds, and you can see that I’m telling the truth.”

“You must be kidding!” Keuning barked a laugh. “If you don’t want a silver bullet in your head, you better keep that shit _far_ away from me.”

“Then what proof do you want from them?” Joe spoke up suddenly. All the Killers looked at him and glared.

“Yes, what evidence will you accept?” asked Lindsey. 

“We’re not interested in your evidence,” said Keuning.

“I’ll say,” muttered Frank.

“But we are interested in _you,”_ Keuning went on, lowering his crossbow and cautiously taking a couple of steps in Gerard’s direction. Two of his people immediately sighted Gerard down the barrel of their guns, and he froze. “Brandon’s been interested in _you_ for a long time, Way.”

“What does he want with me?” Gerard asked.

“Gerard, are you crazy?!” Frank exclaimed. “He wants to _kill_ you! Don’t listen to them.”

“He wants to meet you, naturally,” said Keuning.

“Okay, fine. But you let them go,” Gerard pointed at Mikey and Ray.

Keuning considered this. “Deal,” he said.

“No!” said Mikey, Frank and Bob simultaneously. But Lindsey looked torn. Finally, she said softly and with a pained expression:

“Give us your word you won’t hurt him.”

“Lindsey what are you talking about?” exclaimed Mikey.

“It’s my duty, Mikey,” Gerard said. He knew Mikey knew that, intellectually, but it was only Lindsey that gave him a look of understanding.

“What good is their word?” Mikey went on. “They’re _Killers!”_

“I’ll go too,” Joe volunteered.

“Oh great, thanks, that’s helpful, now you’re apparently one of them,” Frank said sarcastically.

“I’m not one of them,” said Joe.

“We won’t hurt him unless he gives us reason to hurt him,” Keuning said. “While the treaties are in force, we keep to them.”

“It's not up for discussion,” Gerard said. “Mikey, go home. You are acting clan head in my absence. Start behaving like it.”

Mikey looked shocked, but the Killers lowered their weapons and Gerard turned towards Keuning to show him his empty hands. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”


	7. Chapter 7

Patrick was extremely busy basking in the afterglow of some mind-blowing sex with Pete. He didn’t generally tell Pete that sort of thing out loud: for one thing, he found it embarrassing, and for another, Pete could sense how he felt through the bond anyway. But tonight he’d actually said it:

“Oh my God, that was incredible,” - like the girl in a bad porno. Then he immediately felt himself turn red while Pete lay down and laughed at him. Pete had fallen asleep first for once, and Patrick was trying not to disturb him. Pete had been pretty tired lately, and Patrick was getting concerned - one of the key ingredients they used to make up the blood replacement was increasingly hard to find these days, and they’d been skimping on the amounts to make it last longer. Patrick had asked around several suppliers if they knew what was going on, but no-one did. Apparently the whole chain was disrupted.

The main melody for his latest song idea drifted idly through his head - it needed a harmony, maybe he’d give Joe the melody line and write himself a rhythm guitar part that followed the beat more closely. Thinking of Joe, Patrick wondered where he had gotten to. He’d had an afternoon date with Jessica, but he hadn’t been back when Patrick had returned from the Dandy mansion late that evening, and he hadn't said anything about sleeping over. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Or maybe - well, this would be mortifying - maybe he’d gotten home earlier, and he and Pete hadn’t heard because they were screwing too loudly. 

Patrick didn’t have long to stew in the thought, because at that moment, there came an insistent _buzzz_ from the intercom. Pete didn’t stir, so Patrick sat up carefully, checking the time on the besside alarm radio. It blinked 23:15. Who could be calling so late? Patrick worried - could Andy have forgotten his key when he’d gone to the warehouse? Sometimes he trained late into the night….but Andy never forgot things, and he kept his key to the warehouse and his key to their apartment on the same chain anyway. Patrick got out of bed and went quietly to the intercom, which was still buzzing. 

“Hello?” he picked up the receiver.

“Oh my God, Patrick, they took Gerard!”

_“Mikey?!”_

“Mikey give me that!” - a muffled voice that it took Patrick a second to recognise as Lindsey Way, Gerard Way’s wife. “Patrick, can you let us in? We need your help.”

“Uhh, sure,” said Patrick slowly, and unlocked the main door to the building. By now Pete had emerged from bed with his hair sticking up in every direction, a quizzical look on his face. He’d had the sense to put on a t-shirt and a pair of Patrick’s tracksuit bottoms, though his feet were bare. Patrick suddenly realized he was only wearing his boxer shorts, and darted back into the bedroom to throw some clothes on.

“What’s going on?” said Pete from the doorway.

“I have no clue,” said Patrick. “Something about Gerard?”

“Oh man,” Pete looked worried. “This must be bad. Mikey’s panicking, I can feel it from here.”

“I heard him!” Patrick wouldn’t have thought Mikey even capable of panic.

There were feet on the outer stairs, rapid, then somebody knocked frantically at the door of the apartment. Patrick hurried to open it before the neighbors complained.

Mikey and Lindsey Way rushed in with none of their usual composure.

“They took Gerard!” Mikey said again.

“Okay woah, woah slow down,” Patrick held his hands up. “Who took Gerard? What’s going on?”

“The Killers,” said Lindsey grimly, taking a seat on the couch. “They’re taking him to Brandon Flowers.”

“Me and Ray got in trouble at the hospital, and Gerard came, and was like, take me instead, and _Joe was with them!”_ Mikey exclaimed.

_“What?_ ” said Patrick. “Joe was there?"

“Ah, shit,” said Pete. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“What the hell is Joe doing with the Killers?” Mikey said.

“He’s in love with this girl,” Pete rolled his eyes. “Or he thinks he is. She’s hot and saved his life in the fight with Brendon and Ryan, so...”

“I knew I recognised her,” Mikey shook his head. “Okay, so we have to get Gerard back. You guys are the best hunters we know-”

“We’re the only hunters you know-” said Pete.

“Where’s Andy?”

“Wait - hold up,” Patrick said. “What exactly - what were you doing at the hospital?”

“Getting blood,” Lindsey admitted. “Not from humans. Well, from humans indirectly I guess. From blood banks. We haven’t been able to source what we need lately-”

“Us neither!” exclaimed Pete. “This is so weird!”

“Well the Killers got the wrong idea,” Mikey said. “Or who knows, maybe they just decided to kill us anyway. Me and Ray were breaking in and they just cornered us, I sent a message to Gerard to help us but I didn’t mean _surrender to Brandon Flowers!”_

“Okay, I’m certain Joe didn’t mean for this to happen,” Patrick said. “I’m gonna call him and find out where they are. Pete, you call Andy.”

Pete nodded, and went off to find his cellphone. Joe’s cell went straight to voicemail, so Patrick rang it again. Joe still didn’t answer, but when Patrick hung up, he had a new text:

  
  


_Can’t talk. Killer HQ is no. 2 forest path, west of city. Place like a fortress._

  
  


Okay. Patrick definitely didn’t like the sound of that, but it wasn’t like they had much choice. The Ways had basically saved Pete from having a nervous breakdown, and also given them the blood substitute formula. They owed them. Plus, Joe was involved, and while Patrick was telling the truth when he said he was sure Joe hadn't intended this, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of collective responsibility for the Ways’ predicament. Andy only took twenty minutes to get back to the apartment, during which Mikey managed to fill out the details of the story. He wanted to leave the instant Andy got back, and Pete was being irrational and was ready to go along with him, but thankfully Andy was sensible as ever, so Patrick teamed up with him.

“We’re going to need backup,” Andy said.

“We’ve got Frank and Bob,” said Lindsey. “Ray’s hurt and we don’t know where Dewees is.”

“Okay,” said Patrick. “No offense, but I’m not sure if you guys have the uh - _experience_ to go up against the Killers in a straight-up confrontation-”

“Well duh,” said Mikey: “That’s why we came to you.”

“- And I’m not sure we do either. But we might know someone who does.”

“Gabriel Saporta,” said Andy immediately. 

“He’d help?” Mikey’s eyes went very wide. “He doesn’t even know Gerard.”

“But he knows the Killers,” Pete nodded. “And he’s as concerned about them as any of us. We can ask him.”

Lindsey and Mikey looked at each other.

“Do it,” said Mikey.

“The Ways haven’t had contact with another vampire clan for generations,” Lindsey looked troubled. “Gerard wouldn’t-”

“Well if Gerard was here we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Mikey snapped. “Do it.”

Lindsey glared at him for a moment, but then she said: “Mikey is acting clan head in Gerard’s absence.”

Patrick nodded and picked up the phone again.

*

“Woah.” Joe couldn’t stop the low exclamation from slipping out as they approached the Killers’ base. Miles outside of Chicago, down a winding offroad path that circled one of the Great Lakes, the large house was set back in the woods, behind reinforced walls topped with barbed wire. It was modern - not one of the Gilded Age properties that dotted Chicago in various states of repair, but something postwar and utilitarian. There was a sort of watchtower at one end that looked like a custom addition, thrusting up among the treetops. The Killers didn’t just have manpower, Joe realized - they had money and resources too. 

Joe was sitting next to Gerard Way in the back of Keuning’s car, a large 4x4 with tinted windows. Keuning had allowed this, but then instructed Jess to travel in Mark’s vehicle, presumably because he didn’t want them together. Jess looked troubled by the whole situation, but she hadn’t said anything, just followed Keuning’s command with a last look back at Joe that he couldn’t read. Gerard was quiet. True to their word, the Killers hadn’t hurt him, except to secure his wrists with iron handcuffs that certainly wouldn’t be comfortable for a vampire. The woman riding shotgun, the one Keuning had called Anthea, had made a quick phone call back to their base but now sat turned halfway backwards with her eye and her gun on Gerard. Gerard just looked out of the window. Joe wanted to say something like, ‘It will all be fine’, but firstly he didn’t know that, and secondly the Killers already distrusted him enough.

They got out of the car, and Keuning put his gun on Gerard as well as they all made their way up the path cleared to the entrance. As they approached the main gates, Joe’s phone made the low vibration that meant he was getting a call in do-not-disturb mode: it would go straight to voicemail, but he got it out of his pocket anyway and saw Patrick’s name on the screen. No doubt he had heard what was going on, so Joe used the last of his data to connect to the internet and thankfully found their location. As surreptitiously as he could, he texted the address to Patrick.

The inside of the building was no less well fortified - it was almost a compound, Joe realized, with a yard for weapons training and an electronic security system deactivated by a code. He tried to watch Keuning’s fingers as he entered the numbers, but he was too fast. The second group joined them from behind, and Joe tried to catch Jess’s eye - he didn’t know what he was trying to communicate exactly, he just wanted to read her face. She kept her gaze forward and her expression neutral, looking every bit the hardened hunter. He couldn’t quite believe she would let anything terrible happen to Gerard - not smart, kind, funny Jess - but then, how long had he really known her? A few months? Joe felt like he was in love with her, and they did say love worked on your brain like a kind of drug....could he have been so wrong about her? He just didn’t believe it.

The interior of the house was large, stark and fairly modern. Joe guessed there must be at least eight bedrooms, but right away he caught a glimpse of a sort of dormitory, with bunks lined up against both walls, before a woman walking out of it closed the door behind her. He stared around himself, trying to catalogue the layout of the house. He could see a set of stairs leading up, and one heading down presumably to a basement. The floor changed from wood to tiles in the entrance to one room which he guessed must be the kitchen. There wasn’t time to take in much - Keuning led them briskly down a long corridor, though Mark and the woman called Anthea dropped off into side rooms at various points, presumably to unload their weapons. They stopped at a reinforced door - apparently Flowers was the paranoid type, which didn't surprise Joe in the slightest. Keuning knocked. There was a pause, then a voice said, 

“Bring him in.”

Brandon Flowers sat behind a sleek, severe desk that looked like wood and slate. The back wall of his office was covered with mounted weapons, and a handgun sat on his desk next to a laptop. Flowers was a handsome, dark-haired man in his thirties or forties with short dark hair and a single dark eye. An eyepatch covered the place where the other was missing, and Joe could see a thin scar snaking down from underneath it. He dressed all in black, and appeared to be wearing a bulletproof vest. Maybe paranoid was an understatement.

Flowers didn’t so much as twitch when they walked in. Only his eye moved, flicking to Keuning once before tracking Gerard across the room. With Keuning on one side of him and Jess on the other, Gerard came to stand in front of Flowers. Joe hovered in the background - Flowers looked at him once, then apparently dismissed him and looked back to Gerard.

“So,” he said after a long pause. “You are the new head of the Way clan.”

“I am,” Gerard acknowledged.

“This might surprise you to learn, but I knew your grandmother,” Flowers said.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Gerard said.

“I respected her,” said Flowers.

Gerard didn’t say anything, but clearly that _did_ surprise him. He blinked.

“I respected her enterprise, in any case. To improve what you are. Most vampires revel in their own monstrosity. Your people at least made the attempt at harm reduction.”

“Yes,” said Gerard quickly. “We don't want to hurt anyone. The only reason we were at the hospital is-”

“Supply shortage, I know,” Flowers said.

“How would you know that?” Gerard asked.

“Because I arranged it.”

Joe felt his eyes widen. He looked at Jess, but she appeared equally shocked. Keuning looked undisturbed - Joe guessed being Flowers' second made him privy to information the others didn’t have. He searched Jess’s face for any sign of deception, but he saw none. She truly appeared as surprised as he was.

“What?! Why on earth would you do that?” Gerard exclaimed. “Don’t you realize how dangerous this is? You’ve driven peaceful vampires to-”

_“I_ haven’t driven them to do anything,” Flowers interrupted. “Their nature has. All I have done is demonstrate how tenuous your grasp on civilization truly is. I meant it when I said I respect the effort. But you cannot fight what you are, and the moment there’s some interruption to your plans you revert to type. It's not your fault, precisely, but it is what it is.”

“You’re looking for an excuse to kill us,” Gerard said. “There wouldn’t have been an interruption if it weren’t for you.”

“But someday there will be,” Flowers said. “And I don’t need excuses. You are what you are - and I am what I am.” 

He stood up. Joe tensed, thinking he was about attack, but he didn’t reach for a weapon.

“Brandon,” Jess said. She sounded uncertain.

“Take him to the cells,” Brandon said to Keuning. “Secure him with the others.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had been so long since Gerard had interacted with vampires outside of his own clan, and even longer since he’d spoken with a Dandy. From what he’d heard of Saporta, he wasn’t so bad - more rational and less cruel than Beckett for sure, although that wasn’t saying much. But from what Mikey had said, the two Dandies the Killers were holding were Beckett loyalists and he wasn’t looking forward to meeting them. He didn’t know whether to hope the Killers had treated them badly, so they’d be weaker, or treated them well which would bode better for their treatment of him. Two of the hunters - Keuning and the young woman - escorted him him down a set of stairs into a stone basement. They hadn’t taken the handcuffs off, which burned, but it was tolerable for the moment.

They turned a corner and were suddenly confronted by a line of four stark, bare cells. Two were occupied. The vampires must have been in their late teens or early twenties when they had been turned, which fit with what Mikey had told him. They were slim, pretty boys of the type Beckett was known to favour, both with dark eyes and dark hair and dressed in Dandy attire, though it was dirty and ragged now. Both looked hungry, but not feral - like the Killers had been feeding them just enough to keep them quiet, but uncomfortable. The younger-looking of the two boys bared his fangs at Gerard when he entered, and they both snarled, but neither made a move towards him. They just tracked him with their eyes. They were secured, he realized now, to the back walls of their cells by iron chains with cuffs at their wrists. Of course, the Killers knew what they were doing.

Gerard was taken to a third cell, and the young woman attached his handcuffs to the chains. As she leaned closer, he got a sudden sense that she was not quite as convicted as the rest of them. He sensed uncertainty - maybe - surprise - like the whole night had taken a turn that she wasn’t expecting. He glanced at her face. She was a little older than he’d first thought, her petite stature making her look like a girl at first glance, but she was probably in her twenties. She was pretty, but her mouth was presently set in a grim line, and when she saw him look she snapped,

“What are you looking at, fang?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

“Oh, Jessica, our little hunter with a conscience,” said one of the captive Dandies.

_“You_ can shut your mouth,” she straightened up and pointed at the vampire who had spoken.

“Or what? You’ll stake me? I doubt it. Even Brandon’s most problematic children always do what he says.”

“He’s not our father, fang,” said the woman. “We aren’t vampires.”

“Jessica, don’t engage with them,” Keuning said. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Funny, how much you act like them,” said the other Dandy, and they grinned at each other, looking pleased with themselves despite their pallid and ragged appearance. “You’re practically a clan here.”

“I’m sure you think you’re very clever,” said the woman. “But I won’t be baited.” Then she turned and followed Keuning out of the cell.

“She will be baited,” said one of the Dandies casually. “Thankfully. It's one of our few forms of entertainment down here.”

Gerard said nothing.

“So,” said the other Dandy. “You’re Gerard Way.”

“You’ve heard of me,” said Gerard warily.

“Uh, duh,” the first one rolled his eyes. “You’re fairly famous. I guess the humans finally saw through your blood abstinence bullshit, huh?”

“It’s not bullshit,” said Gerard. “We don’t drink blood. Or at least, we haven’t until-”

“Until you couldn’t help yourself,” said the first Dandy. By the way they spoke, in sync and seeming to finish each other’s thoughts, Gerard guessed they had to be bonded. “Well, obviously. The Killers are right about one thing, Way - there’s no point in pretending to be something we aren’t.”

“And what are _we,_ exactly?” said Gerard frostily.

“Predators, of course,” said the other Dandy. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Predators are natural - necessary, even, to keep the ecosystem in balance.”

“What are your names?” Gerard asked, changing tack.

“Why?” said the first one.

“You know mine,” Gerard pointed out. 

“Fair enough,” the first one acknowledged: “My name is Brendon Urie, the new leader of the Dandies, and this is my second, Ryan Ross.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows. He could sense that the vampires were very young, but unusually strong for their age. Their shields weren’t particularly well-developed - especially not now, in the weakened state they were pretending not to acknowledge - and Gerard could tell that Urie meant what he said. He truly perceived himself as the leader of the Dandies. 

“Yes yes, we know, Gabriel Saporta,” the one called Ryan rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t bad, a hundred years ago, but he’s clearly past his usefulness as a leader. A few of them still follow him out of loyalty, but there are so many more of us realizing now what we have to do.”

“And - what is that?” Gerard asked warily. The chains were pulling on his arms painfully, and the handcuffs burned. He shifted, trying to keep the metal off his wrists.

“Take our rightful place,” Brendon shrugged. “We are what we are, and the humans are what _they_ are. They’ve been showing themselves up lately, imagining they are our equals when they’re nothing more than food. The treaties are done.”

“It takes a leader like Brendon to see vampire society into this new age,” Ryan said.

Gerard was shocked by their audacity. “The treaties have held society in balance since before you were born as humans, leave alone as vampires.”

“Well now they don’t,” Brendon shrugged, as best he could in his confines. 

Gerard thought. He could feel them probe at his shields, but their powers were diminished by insufficient feeding, and he kept his mind closed tightly. Finally he said,

“I’m afraid I can’t see much of a revolution happening from your present state, Mr. Urie.”

“Give it time,” Brendon said. “We’re working on them. That girl in particular - she’s a weak link.”

“I suppose you intend to turn her.”

“I intend to drink her. The Killers owe me a lot of blood,” he scowled.

“Besides,” said Ryan. “We have friends. Out there.” Gerard supposed he would have gestured, if he’d had a free hand.

“You should join us,” Brendon said. “Now you’ve come around to a proper way of feeding.”

Gerard kept his silence.

  
  


*

  
  


“Jess, what the hell?” Joe exclaimed. She grabbed his arm, pulling him aside and into one of the dorm rooms as she returned from the staircase. The rest of the Killers were ignoring Joe, for which he was grateful. Jess looked around to check that room was empty, then hissed,

“Keep your voice down!”

 _“Brandon Flowers_ was interrupting the vampires’ supply?”

“I didn’t know!” she whispered. “I swear, Joe, I didn’t know about this. He doesn’t tell us everything.”

“I’ll say,” Joe said. “You can’t possibly approve of this. He’s _driving_ them to kill.”

Jessica sat down on one of the bunks. “This…” she said. “It’s a lot.”

“It can’t be the first time he’s doing something like this.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Can’t you see now?” Joe appealed. “This is crazy, Jess. You can’t go along with this.”

“I don’t have a choice!” she exclaimed, then immediately lowered her voice again. “Joe, look, I - I’m surprised. It’s dangerous, I’ll give you that. But this is my home, and these people are my family, and Brandon has done dangerous things before and he’s always turned out to be right.”

Joe just stared at her.

“I love you,” Jess said softly. “I want to be with you. But I can’t leave. I have nowhere else to go.”

“I love you too,” he said. “But you know this is wrong Jess. You know it.”

  
  


*

“....and that’s pretty much all we know at the moment.” Patrick finished filling in Gabriel Saporta. 

“Gerard’s okay,” Lindsey put in. “Relatively, I mean. I’d feel it if he was being tortured or something, even at this distance.”

“Flowers isn’t stupid,” Saporta leaned back in his grand chair, extending his legs in front of him. Ryland was standing behind him along with a couple of younger Dandies that Patrick didn’t know - though he thought one of them was called Alex. “He’ll want to wear him down first with blood deprivation. Then, he’ll interrogate him.”

“For what?” Mikey exclaimed. “Doesn’t he know everything he wants to know about vampires?”

“But not about the Ways,” Gabriel pointed out. “You are, after all, quite unique specimens. Are you sure I can’t offer you some blood?”

“No, thank you,” said Lindsey.

“I’d advise it,” Gabriel said. “You’re going to want to be at your strongest for what we’re about to do. These days we take it from willing humans, anyway.”

“There are that many willing humans? _”_ said Mikey.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

“So you’ll help?” Patrick said.

“ll help,” Gabriel acknowledged. “Flowers is too dangerous to go unopposed now. With the wave of anti-vampire bigotry going around we can’t tolerate this any longer.” 

All this time Pete had been silent, just watching the discussions with a slightly pained expression. His shields were partially lowered, but Patrick could still sense through their bond that he felt guilt - apparently his brain had come up with some way to make this his fault. They’d talk about it later, but for now, they needed a plan.

“This is the address Joe texted me,” Patrick showed Gabriel. 

“I know it,” Gabriel nodded.

“So...what are we going to do?” Mikey demanded.

Gabriel thought. “I feel like our best bet is psychic interference. What’s your strength like?”

“Uh, it's pretty good I guess,” Mikey said. “Not as good as my brother but still good. But no doubt the Killers have some kind of defences.”

“If we can get close enough, we might be able to influence them to take them down,” Lindsey said.

“I don’t know,” said Ryland after a long moment. “It just seems too easy. Flowers hasn’t lived this long and retained his power by being stupid or careless.”

“Well we have to try something!” Mikey said. “We don’t know how long Gerard has.”

“Alright,” said Gabriel decisively. “Give me some time to prepare my shields. We can do it tomorrow night. But you have to understand - I’m not letting my people get killed over this. I would very much like to see Flowers be taken down, and I’m sorry about your brother, but my first obligation is to protect my people.”

“That’s fair,” Lindsey nodded. “Gerard would understand.”

“Hey,” Patrick grabbed Pete’s arm as they left and pulled him aside into one of the alcoved doorways. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” said Pete.

“You know perfectly well that doesn’t work on me,” Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“Well it's just,” Pete said uncomfortably. “Before I met Mikey, like, they were safe, weren’t they? Like they just kept to themselves and stuff. Gerard didn’t want to change and now - well, look what’s happened.”

“They’re adults, Pete,” Patrick told him. “Hell, they’re adults many times over. You aren’t responsible for their decisions.”

“I know but…” Pete looked troubled. “Haven’t you noticed, Rick? Whenever people get close to me, bad shit happens to them. I’m like a magnet for trouble. Hell, Joe doesn’t even want to be in this band anymore. Because of me.”

“Oh that is not true,” Patrick said hotly. “And what do you mean ‘because of you’?”

“Because of _what I am,_ Patrick! What if all people see when they look at us is a gimmick? Joe wants to be respected as a musician, not known as ‘the other guy in that one vampire band’.”

“Alright, you’re being irrational,” Patrick said. “Let’s just do this rescue thing and then we’ll have a proper conversation about it, okay? All of us together.”

Pete didn’t say anything else. He had that determined, petulant look on his face that made him look like a fourteen year old plotting how to sneak out of being grounded. 

“Come on, let’s go to the warehouse,” Andy appeared from the corridor. “I want to get in some more practice with my new gun before I take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao why do I always make Brandon Flowers the villain? I actually like The Killers very much. It started when he said he wanted to kill every member of FOB because of all the shitty imitators they spawned. There's an interview somewhere where the interviewer asks FOB what they think about this and Patrick's like 'Wow....I can't believe Brandon Flowers knows FOB, this is so cool'.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is late but I literally have the best excuse ever - I had a near death experience! I shit you not! I remember absolutely nothing about it, nor the two days beforehand, but I'm fine. I mean, I can't quite believe it happened, but I'm fine physically. Basically, as far as the doctors can figure out, I fell down at least some of my extremely steep staircase and landed in my narrow hallway in a way that caused positional asphyxia - when you rapidly lose consciousness because your lungs are being compressed, and then of course you can't get out of the position. Luckily I'm pretty fit, and according to the doctor the paramedics did a great job, so one way or another I was able to get enough oxygen that I appear to have no lasting effects. They tell me I was in a coma for a day (I can't believe it! The worst thing I've had before is a handful of stitches!) but as soon as I woke up I recovered really quickly, and well, basically - I'm fine. I mean, I'm shocked, and incredibly grateful and all, but there's nothing wrong with me. 
> 
> I'll never complain about working out again.

Unsurprisingly, Brandon Flowers had some questions for Joe. With all vampires safely secured in the basement, he called him to his office. He wasn’t explicitly hostile, but rather curt with him:

“What’s your name? How old are you? How long have you been hunting? What’s your score?”

“Score?” Joe asked in confusion.

“How many fangs have you killed?” said Flowers impatiently.

“Oh uh, I guess about - forty?” Joe hadn’t ever counted.

“Forty in three years? No offense but I’ve turned down better candidates.”

“I’m not trying to join your crew,” Joe said. “I’ve got my own. Anyway we don’t only do vampires.”

“Why not? Vampires are far and away the biggest threat to humans. Faeries might be a pain in the ass, but they don’t go around drinking innocent people.”

Joe thought it best to be circumspect: “Just, uh. You know, varied interests. My friend - he’s big into research.”

“Alright, well if you aren’t interested in joining us we can’t have you here long. You can stay for the weekend, but this is primarily a place of work. What Jessica does on her own time is her business, but I don’t have the space or supplies to support a dating service.”

Joe thought that, actually, Flowers probably had the space and supplies to support a small town, but he just nodded. “Yes sir,” he said.

“Alright, get out of my office now. You can look around in the rooms that are unlocked. Just don’t mess anything up.”

“Yes sir,” Joe said again. It was weird, he thought, how Flowers could seem so reasonable - even normal - at times. Then again, if he were always a raving fanatic, probably no-one would listen to him. He remembered when Pete called the Killers ‘culty’. Now he’d met Flowers, Joe had to admit - he had more than a hint of a cult leader vibe about him. He went back into the dorm room where Jessica had told him to wait whilst she took her turn guarding the vampires, and checked to see if he had any phone signal. He didn’t, so he sat on Jessica’s bed and played Tetris until two of the Killers peered around the door to stare at him. They were both young, both girls, and looked rather more like a couple of Pete’s admirers than like seasoned hunters. One was blonde, the other redheaded and both reminded Joe of the hot-but-bitchy girl clique back in high school. He mentally upgraded Flowers’ creep level by a notch.

“Uh. Hi,” Joe waved.

“So you’re Jess’s boyfriend?”

“...yeah.”

The girls looked at each other and raised their eyebrows, then giggled a little cruelly.

“What’s your score?” said the blonde. This time Joe at least knew how to answer:

“About forty.”

“What do you mean _about forty?_ Is it forty or isn't it? Do you not know how to count?”

The redhead had her head on one side, squinting at Joe narrowly. “Say, have we met you?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Joe quickly.

Then the girl's eyes widened and she pointed at him. “Hey! You’re that guy! That guy in the band!”

“What band?” said her friend.

Joe groaned internally, knowing what was coming. It was funny how when he was a kid, being in a band with The Pete Wentz seemed like the coolest thing that could possibly happen to him - and that band actually _making_ it little more than a pipe dream. They did always tell you to be careful what you wished for.

“The band with the _vampire!”_

Joe cringed. Both girls stared at him in horrified fascination. Joe felt suddenly ashamed of himself - he should defend Pete, object that he wasn’t ‘the vampire’ but his friend and a person and a damn good lyricist, thank you very much. (He probably wouldn’t add ‘epic bass skills’ to a defense of Pete, but hey, you couldnt have everything). But here on Killer territory, he didn’t feel able to argue with them like that.

“Shouldn’t you two be training?” Keuning appeared suddenly behind the girls.

“Hey Dave, do you know who this is?” said the redhead. “He’s a fang sympathizer!”

“I know who he is,” said Keuning. “Go to the training yard.”

The girls gave each other incredulous looks, but they did leave. Keuning sat down on the bunk opposite Joe and stared at him. Ordinarily, Joe would say, ‘What?’ or suggest he take a picture, it would last longer, but Keuning was powerful here and Joe was powerless. So he let Keuning stare.

“So,” Keuning said at last. “ _Are_ you a fang sympathiser?”

“That depends,” Joe said carefully. “On what you mean by a fang. If you mean vampires in general, then yeah. I guess I am. If you mean rogue vampires who break the treaties then definitely not.”

“You’re very arrogant,” said Keuning. “Imagining you can make those kind of judgements. You felt sorry for the fangs we dealt with earlier. Do you think you know the Way Clan? We’ve known them a lot longer than you have, kid.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Joe couldn’t help himself: “I have a pretty good track record on judgement so far.”

Keuring glared at him and opened his mouth to say something, but just at that moment, a strange look came over his face. He seemed to struggle with himself, then his face went slack. His eyes dragged towards the doorway, as though against his will, and he rose slowly from the bed. Then Joe felt it too - something was - _pushing_ him, not from outside, but from inside, inside his mind, and he reflexively panicked and tried to stop it. Then he heard

_Joe!_

In _Pete’s voice,_ except he didn’t _hear_ it, in the physical sense, it seemed to come from inside and outside all at once, like an exceptionally strong memory. He stopped trying to block it out and attempted to listen instead. 

_Joe, just be cool,_ Pete was saying. _We’re breaking Gerard out of there._

_How?_ Joe thought with as much effort as he could muster without moving his face - but he knew it hadn’t worked. After all, Joe was neither a vampire nor bonded to one - there was no reason to think he’d be able to send psychic messages. But Pete seemed to understand his confusion:

_Lindsey and Mikey and me are influencing the Killers. Some of them are buckling fast but Flowers and Keuning at least have some really decent resistance. Seems like it's not their first rodeo._

Keuning still wasn’t moving, just staring towards the door with a fixed frown on his face. Very carefully, Joe stood up and inched towards the doorway. The hall was almost deserted - that guy who's name was Jose was standing frozen with his eyes towards the main gates. Joe inched passed him. Only two things were on his mind: Jess, and getting to his friends. He didn’t know which seemed more important, but as it turned out he didn’t have to choose, because just at that moment, Jess barelled out into the hallway and grabbed his arm.

“We have to go,” she said, sounding confused. “We have to…” she looked back towards the basement stairs, then towards Joe again. She seemed to have forgotten what she was saying.

“Come with me,” Joe grabbed her hand. “We’re gonna get out of here, it will be okay.”

“I feel like I should…” her eyes strayed towards the control panel embedded into the wall, and Joe realized what it was, suddenly: the combination lock that would open the gates in the courtyard. Joe felt his own eyes go wide.

“Jess!” he said urgently: “What’s the combination to open the gates?”

“I….” she said, her eyes straying back to the basement. “I feel like I ought to…”

“Right!” he urged her. “Come on Jess, you know what they’re doing here is wrong!” He felt a flash of guilt, knowing she was being influenced from outside. But on the other hand, he just knew she didn’t truly believe in Flowers’ methods. He’d seen it in her face. Heard it in her voice. And he _knew_ her. “Just tell me the passcode,” Joe appealed to her. “I’ll do the rest.”

  
  


*

  
  


“That girl,” said Mikey abruptly. They were standing around Andy’s truck, concealed by the treeline, with the car Frank had driven erratically after them badly parked behind it. Behind _that_ was a sleek 1920s model belonging to Gabriel Saporta, which appeared to be both original and in perfect condition.

“What?” Pete said.

“That girl your friend is with - she’s receptive.”

Patrick swore to himself that if Pete made an off-color joke about that, they were breaking up. But Pete just looked startled. 

“She’s wide open to suggestion,” Lindsey said, a faraway look in her eyes but sounding as coherent as ever. “I don’t think she’s as committed as the others.”

Mikey looked fixed, his face set -

“She won’t free Gerard,” Pete shook his head. “I’m trying too but she isn’t going to do it.”

“I might get her to open the gates though,” Lindsey said. 

“How the hell is Flowers doing it?” Frank muttered. “I’ve never heard of a mortal with shields like this.”

“Ignore Flowers,” said Gabriel sharply. “We’re here for Gerard Way, nothing else.”

“We’re gonna have a hard time ignoring Flowers if he starts staking people!” Frank objected.

“Just get his subordinates in control. Freeze them if you can’t do anything else.”

“I have Keuning,” said Mikey abruptly. Gabriel actually looked impressed.

  
  


“Come on, come on,” Lindsey muttered, then: “Damn it!”

  
  


*

  
  


“I can’t,” Jess shook her head haltingly. “It’s not - it's not allowed - Brandon wouldn’t-”

“Jess listen to me,” said Joe quickly. “You said before Brandon wasn’t your father, and that you did what you wanted.”

“I….did,” she said uncertainly, looking back and forth down the hallway. Joe felt horribly guilty at the irony of what he was now doing.

“Well, sabotaging the blood supply - that wouldn't be allowed either, would it? The treaties wouldn’t allow it, would they?”

Jess looked frozen.

“Just tell me the gate combination,” Joe coaxed again. “I’ll do everything else.”

A pained look crossed her face, she froze - and then all of a sudden she turned around, raced to the control panel, and input a rapid series of numbers. The expression on her face when she was done was mortified. Joe raced in the direction of the main entrance, where several of the Killers were already turning in confusion, just in time to see Andy knock out one of the guards on the gate with a single punch. It was pretty badass, even if the guy was obviously under vampire influence that was slowing his reaction time. You rarely got to see Andy doing his martial arts shit on actual living targets, but every time it made Joe resolve to practice more hand-to-hand fighting. Right behind Andy were Pete and Patrick - and a whole bunch of the Way clan, and Gabriel Saporta, and Ryden, and a couple of the Alexes - Joe was extremely confused, but he wasn’t complaining. The Killers may have been slowed down by the vampires’ powers of compulsion, but they weren’t stupified, and more of them were heading towards the gates now, shaking their heads as though trying to clear their minds. The vampires also had to think about getting physically into the compound now, so they couldn’t put all of their focus on influencing the humans. Some were fighting back. Joe felt as frozen, as if the vampires were controlling him too (hell, maybe they were. Would he even know?) Jess appeared behind him, and stared at the scene.

  
“I did that,” she whispered guiltily. Joe didn’t know what to say so he just took her hand and squeezed it. Mikey Way turned a direct gaze onto Keuning, who had appeared in the compound doors, and Joe jumped - he’d never seen Mikey look like that, or even imagined he could. He looked - _dangerous -_ like the predator Flowers claimed all vampires were - and Keuning just lowered his gun, holding it loosely enough for Joe to grab it out of his hand. Mikey gave him a short nod and pushed past. Lindsey Way and Gabriel Saporta were right behind him. Andy grinned and clapped Joe on the shoulder as he ran inside - Pete and Patrick, along with Ryden and an Alex, stayed outside to detain the Killers in the courtyard. Joe had no idea what his role here was, so he went with the ignoble impulse to see what Flowers would do, and followed Andy inside.


	10. Chapter 10

Gerard didn’t quite know what happened. He’d known Lindsey and Mikey were close, of course, and he could also sense Frank. They were telling him they were going to break him out, but they were distracted, trying to do multiple things at once - and he could sense other vampires, unfamiliar ones, which was always unnerving. He recognised Pete, being a bit familiar with the landscape of his mind, but the others were a mystery. They were powerful though, very powerful.

Which explained why Gabriel Saporta, the real clan head of the Dandies, was suddenly standing in the hallway between the cells, along with Lindsey and Mikey.

Brendon and Ryan obviously weren’t as blase about Saporta as they pretended to be, because they looked frankly frightened. They’d shrunk back to the furthest walls of their cells and their eyes were wide, but Saporta was ignoring them. And then everyone else was ignoring them too, because as Mikey rushed towards Gerard’s cell (was he strong enough to break the bars? And even so, could he get Gerard out of the silver cuffs?), Brandon Flowers himself appeared at the end of the hallway, crossbow in his hand. He’d clearly been fighting - his eyepatch had been torn off, exposing scarred tissue beneath it, his face was scratched, and there was a large patch of blood on his right shoulder. Even with these impairments, he seemed to have no trouble in aiming the loaded crossbow directly at Lindsey’s head.

“Stop,” he said calmly.

Everybody stopped.

If Gerard were human, he guessed his heart would have been racing now. Mikey audibly gasped. Lindsey looked calm, but he could read that she was scared - for herself, certainly, but they’d also been bonded for long enough that if she died, Gerard would probably die too. 

“Release my people,” Flowers said, “Or I’ll kill her. Then I’ll kill him, if necessary,” he nodded in Gerard’s direction. 

“Yeah right,” said Mikey. “If we release your people they’ll just slaughter us.”

“You are breaking the treaties. You are controlling my people against their will, and trespassing on my property.”

“I’m pretty sure you broke the treaties _first!”_ Gerard objected. “We never wanted to hurt anyone!”

“The treaties don’t say anything about your supply chains,” Flowers shrugged.

“No vampire shall drink from a human against said human’s will, and conversely, no human shall compel a vampire to take blood unwillingly, either from the human in question or another human. Page 4, paragraph 5,” Lindsey quoted.

“I’m not compelling you to do anything,” Flowers said. “Your nature is what’s compelling you. I am merely conducting a demonstration. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell _him,”_ he jerked his head backwards, slightly, and Gerard realized that Joe Trohman had slipped into the hallway behind Flowers, and was watching the scene with wide eyes. “Before he corrupts a promising young hunter. Yes, Trohman, I know you’re there.” But he hadn’t looked.

How are you doing that?” Saporta was staring at Flowers with narrowed eyes. “How are you blocking me?”

“Practice,” said Flowers coolly. “I’ve been dealing with vampires for a long time.”

“I’ve been dealing with humans for rather longer.”

Gerard couldn’t understand it either. Saporta’s psychic powers were extremely strong - he’d known his reputation, of course, but now that Saporta was in front of him it was overwhelmingly obvious. Gerard was pretty powerful himself, and Mikey and Lindsey were no slouches. Sure, their focus was split right now, but even so - in a room full of vampires, Flowers was shielding in a way Gerard had never encountered in a human. 

Come to think of it, he had only ever encountered it in...in….

In other vampires.

“What are you?” he demanded.

“An agent of justice,” said Flowers.

“You’re not human,” Gerard accused him. “You can’t be.”

Flowers’ eyes flashed. “What are you talking about?”

“Only a vampire could shield like that.”

“Do I _look_ like a vampire to you?”

“You have vampire blood,” Gerard concluded. “You’re not full vampire, obviously, but there’s vampire in you. Somewhere in your family, humans interbred.”

Flowers stared at him for a long moment. Then he said:

“How do you think I know so much about what you are, fang?”

Joe Trohman gasped audibly. 

“Fascinating,” Saporta said. “That explains a lot, actually. Do your people know?”

“Of course not. Nor would they believe it if you told them, so go ahead, say what you like.”

But that wasn’t what Gerard was thinking about. Nor was it on Saporta’s mind, he could tell. Now they knew how Flowers was doing it, they employed the same techniques they would against a powerful vampire, feeling out the shape of the walls in Flowers’ mind and skimming along them for cracks and weaknesses. Gerard was out of practice, but Saporta wasn’t, and as soon as he found a hint of a faultline he was in. He immediately opened the space - and you wouldn’t have to be psychic to watch the cracks practically appear on Flowers’ face, as every vampire in the room took advantage to work on controlling his mind. Even Brendon and Ryan helped, though their efforts were pretty weak, and Gerard could see at once why they hadn’t been able to influence the humans on their own. To be fair, they had been semi-starved of blood for a while, but Brendon was nonetheless pretty delusional to think himself any kind of match for Saporta. Flowers dropped the crossbow and Joe Trohman grabbed it, giving Saporta enough time to knock Flowers out with a single, remarkably human, punch. There was a _chink_ as he fell to the floor:

“The keys!” said Mikey, quickly grabbing the iron ring from his belt then dropping it with a hiss of pain as it burnt his fingers.

“I’ll do it,” said Joe Trohman, took the ring of keys, and began trying them one by one in the lock of Gerard’s cell: “Sorry, I don’t know which - got it!” With a clatter, the door to Gerard’s cell swung open and he appealed,

“Handcuffs?”

“Uh…” Joe tried several more keys, until finally a smaller one clicked them open and Gerard breathed a sigh of relief at the cessation of the burning in his wrists. He and Lindsey embraced, then he turned and hugged Mikey too, flooded with his relief both at Gerard’s safety and not being acting Head of the Way clan any longer. 

“What about us?” demanded Brendon.

“What about you?” said Saporta archly. “Give me one good reason why I should help you.”

“We can’t just leave them here,” said Gerard. “They’ll die.”

“Perhaps they deserve to die,” said Saporta. “They are traitors and treaty-breakers. Certainly hunters would say so.” He looked at Joe. Joe looked torn. Then:

“No-one deserves to starve to death,” he said finally.

“Alright,” said Saporta. “If I free you, you will come with me and remain in my custody, until I decide what to you with you.”

“Fine,” snapped Brendon. “Just get us out of here.”

Saporta nodded at Joe, who tried multiple keys until he found the right ones, and Brendon and Ryan almost collapsed once they were freed. They clearly weren’t going to be much of a threat. Saporta yanked Brendon to his feet with a look of disdain. “Keep behind me,” he instructed, and they did. 

“What do we do about him?” Lindsey nodded at Flowers.

“Kill him, obviously.” Ryan stared at Flowers hungrily. “Preferably by draining.” 

“If we do that the other Killers will hunt us down,” Trohman warned. “And the broader hunting community won’t be happy either.”

“But he’s part vampire!” said Brendon. “He’s been lying this whole time!”

“No-one will believe us,” Joe said. “He was right about that. He’s pretty much a legend among hunters.”

“Just leave him,” Saporta shook his head. “Let his people deal with him. Hopefully he’s learned something about his abilities - and ours."

Gerard blinked in the light as they made their way up out of the basement cells.

  
  


*

Joe and Jess sat on the boardwalk, looking out at a grey lake. The water was choppy, rough and unsettled, which fitted Joe’s mood to a T. Jess hadn’t answered his texts or calls for three days after they’d gotten the vampires out - when he’d left with the guys, she was still half under the vampires’ compulsion, and hadn’t seemed to take in what he was saying to her. At last, after he’d texted to ask if they could just meet, if he could just talk to her, she’d replied,

_West Park Boardwalk, 6am._

Normally as far as Joe was concerned, 6 shouldn’t even _have_ an a.m., except perhaps at the end of a particularly excellent party, so it was a measure of his commitment that he’d actually been early. He saw why Jess wanted to come at this time - for one thing, the place was deserted, meaning they could talk freely - and the cool air and dull skies seemed appropriate for the conversation they were about to have. Jess wouldn’t look at him. She looked tired, and serious, tucked into a thick coat and keeping her gaze on the water as she approached and sat down next to him. She folded her legs under her. Joe wanted to move closer, but wasn’t sure it would be welcome. He didn’t say anything, and his stomach churned in time with the waves on the lake.

After a long moment, Jess said:

“I’m really surprised you’d do that.”

There were a lot of things she could mean.

“Manipulate me,” she clarified. “When I said Brandon didn’t control me, it wasn’t an invitation for someone else to try.”

“He was controlling you though!” Joe objected. “And _lying_ to you!” He was desperate to tell her about the part-vampire revelation, but he didn’t think she was in the mood to just take his word on that. “You know sabotaging the blood replacement was wrong. I know you know.”

Jess still didn’t look at him. “I don’t agree with what he did,” she said. “But. I don’t agree with what you did, either.”

They fell silent.

“Did you get in trouble?” Joe asked after a long moment. “For opening the gates, I mean. I would have done that if you’d just told me-”

“No one knows it was me,” she said. “Besides I - I don’t know if I wanted to do it.” She turned to him and exclaimed in frustration: “That’s what I can’t get over! I don’t _know_ what I wanted! I don’t know what was me, and what was me being manipulated! I’ve always known what I wanted and you've ruined that. In - in more ways than one.”’

“What - do you want now?” he asked carefully. He meant, ‘are you breaking up with me’, and she understood him.

“I want to be with you,” she said. “But I can’t. While you’re part of 16 Candles, I can't. While you work with vampires, I can't. You’re going to have to choose, Joe.”

“I don’t want to choose!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he hated the whine in his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’re going to have to,” she reiterated. “If you do decide to leave them, call me. Please.”

Then she left.

Joe couldn’t think. He was angry - angry at himself, at Jess, at the Killers. Angry at the guys, as irrational and unfair as that was. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet when he made his way back to the apartment, even though Patrick and Andy would certainly still be sleeping - Pete was sitting on the couch, watching TV in his pyjamas. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked Joe.

“Fuck off,” said Joe unfairly, and went to his room to lie down on his bed and blast Black Flag directly into his brain. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it must have been a more reasonable hour of the morning when the break between tracks made him aware of someone knocking on his door. He was tempted to ignore it, but his more rational side observed that alienating his best friends as well as his girlfriend was possibly not the best plan in the world. 

“Come in,” he pulled his headphones off.

Andy sat down backwards on Joe’s desk chair and folded his arms over the top of the backrest. He stared Joe down in that way that made hunters twice his age uncomfortable. Finally Joe said,

“Jess said I have to choose. Her or you guys."

“I see,” said Andy. “Well I can’t say I’m surprised. I expected it to happen sooner, frankly.”

“Is that your advice?”

“How can I advise you?” Andy shrugged. “It’s your decision.”

“You don’t think there’s any chance I could get her to change her mind?”

Andy looked thoughtful. “You know her better than I do, Joe. But suppose you got her to change her mind - this time. What happens next time there’s some major clash in your principles? This can’t go on forever, in my opinion.”

Joe had squashed a pillow into his face and he slowly lowered it, dragging the bottoms of his eyelids down with it.

“I love her,” he said. “But I want my life, too.”

“If you love her, you can’t make her into something she isn’t,” said Andy. 

“But love is the most important thing, right? That’s what people want?”

“It doesn’t matter what people want. It matters what you want, and what she wants.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Joe said miserably. “Goddamit. Pete and Patrick never told me love was gonna be such a complicated bitch.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch now.

  
  


“I still can’t believe Flowers has vampire blood,” Patrick shook his head, putting his pen down and looking up from his attempts to fit Pete’s most recent lyrics to a melody. “What a nutjob.”

“I dunno,” said Pete. “It makes a lot of sense, actually.” He was lounging on the bed, propped up against the headrest with his bass across his knees, supposedly practicing some notation Patrick had given him. Patrick wasn’t hearing a lot of practicing.

“How so?” Patrick turned to look at him.

“It explains why he hates vampires so much. They represent a part of him that he hates - something beyond his control, that he can’t get rid of. He can’t take the vampire out of himself, so he’s gonna kill every vampire he can get his hands on.”

“Huh,” said Patrick. “I guess when you put it that way…” Pete went quiet. He’d been quiet the past few days actually, keeping his shields up more than usual. Patrick was slightly worried, but Pete did have his moods, and he didn’t always feel like sharing, even with Patrick. Patrick tapped the side of his pen against the desk. Then they both heard the door to Joe’s room open, and muffled voices. 

“I hope Andy can get through to him,” Pete looked concerned. 

“He will,” Patrick reassured him. “You know Andy’s good at this stuff.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the voices stopped, they heard the door open again, and Andy’s footsteps came closer.

“Let’s ask him,” Pete jumped up suddenly, making Patrick wince as he almost dropped his bass on the floor, and sprinted into the living room. Andy was just going to pick up a book when Pete launched himself onto the couch next to him and demanded, “What’s wrong with Joe?”

“I should think Joe will tell you himself if he wants you to know,” said Andy. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“Come on Andy,” Patrick appealed. “What’s affecting him affects all of us - if we aren’t working as a team, the band doesn’t work, not to mention it makes hunting more dangerous.”

“We can’t help him if we don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Pete appealed.

And looked dubious for a moment, but then he said,

“Alright. For the greater good I suppose,” and sighed. “Jess gave him an ultimatum. He has to choose between us and her.”

“Between her and...16 Candles?” said Patrick slowly.

“Just us in general, I gather,” said Andy.

“You mean me,” said Pete. He looked stricken.

“I don’t think she’s my biggest fan either,” Patrick pointed out. “The Killers think I’m some kind of pervert with Stockholm Syndrome. No, I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome Pete, don’t start.”

“But it's because of me,” Pete objected. Patrick felt his misery through the bond, and normally he’d be sympathetic, but he was tired and stressed by the record label pressing him for some demos, and in the back of his mind he was worried about Flowers, and Brendon and Ryan, for that matter. Their enemies seemed to be increasing daily. He needed his band to be a band and to work together as hunters. Joe was already a mess, and Pete going into his tragic hero self-pity mode wasn’t exactly helping. He couldn’t stop the surge of irritation from flowing across the bond. Pete gave him a shocked, wounded look. Then he slammed his shields down.

Patrick blinked. Pete rarely shut down so forcibly, but fair enough, if he was going to be like that, Patrick would leave him alone for a bit. Sometimes that was the best thing you could do with Pete, and it wasn’t like they were really communicating that well at the moment.

“It’s rude to have psychic conversations when other people are in the room,” said Andy. So Patrick said, “Well, I’ve got work to do,” and retreated to the bedroom to go on with the demos he was editing. He half assumed Pete would follow him, but who knew when he was being like this. Patrick put his headphones on - the fancy noise-cancelling ones he had bought after the first advance - and lost himself in Garage Band for a while. When he looked up, because he was getting hungry, he was surprised to see that it was already 1pm. The room was empty and the apartment sounded quiet. Feeling slightly uneasy, he grabbed a leftover taco box from the refrigerator and stuck it in the microwave. When he’d finished, he grabbed a coke from the fridge and wandered into the living room, calling "Pete?"

Pete had his shields firmly clamped down. Patrick tried phoning him, but there was no answer, so he called Andy, who to judge from the background noise was practicing drums at the studio.

“I think Pete’s pissed at me, can you call him?” He didn’t say, “I’m worried,” but he was pretty sure Andy could hear it in his tone.

“Sure,” said Andy, hung up, then a few minutes later he called back to say, “He’s not answering. It went directly to voicemail.” 

Now Patrick was really worried. He wished he hadn’t let Pete see his annoyance with him earlier, but it had just sort of slipped through. If Pete wasn't at the studio, the next obvious place to check would be the warehouse. Pete wasn’t there either. Patrick kept probing with his mind the whole time, but Pete was keeping a perfectly shuttered blank - and it felt different, somehow, from the other times Pete would shield from him. Then, he’d known Pete was there - he could sense the mental landscape behind the wall, he just couldn’t access it. Now it was like Pete was barely there at all, and after so much time bonded, it was disconcerting. Patrick called Mikey Way, then Gabriel Saporta. Neither had heard from him.

Patrick sighed, steeling himself. He was going to have to call Pete’s parents. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Pete’s family - he did - it was just that they all found it hard to talk about Pete being a vampire, and ‘I can’t feel Pete properly through our psychic bond’ was definitely vampire business. It was useless anyway - Pete’s mom sounded pleased to hear from him - she had always liked Patrick, for some reason - but she hadn’t talked to her son since the previous weekend.

“You tell him to call me when you find him,” she admonished Patrick, “And tell me when he’s coming over for dinner.” She didn’t quite seem to grasp that the situation could be potentially serious, and Patrick didn’t know how to explain. So he sat, and thought, concentrating as hard as he could on his end of the bond, trying to think of all the places Pete might go when he was depressed. The problem was there were too many of them. But then Patrick sensed a glimpse of something - a grey sky, water and - a white wall? What kind of walls were there on the water? Well, there were lighthouses - but there must be a hundred lighthouses on lake Michigan alone. Where to even start? Patrick sat up, grabbed his laptop, and Googled, ‘lighthouses lake Michigan chicago’. Then he pulled up Google images. There were far too many - but not all of them were white, some were the wrong shape, some too tall….and soon he’d narrowed it down to four possibilities. He didn’t really know why he was doing this - but a sense of urgency had overcome him, like he just had to see Pete - it wasn’t like him. Even bonded, Patrick had never been the guy who wanted to be joined at the hip to someone - he liked his own space and thought those couples who had to be together 24/7 were pretty weird. But now a low sense of fear emerged in the pit of his stomach and he felt like...if he didn’t find Pete...something bad was going to happen. Or hell, was already happening. Patrick ran out to his car - a small secondhand Volkswagon he’d secured with his share of the album money, a little clunky but so far very reliable - and floored it in the direction of his nearest circled location. He was torn between focusing on driving - far faster than he normally would - and trying to keep the bond open, searching for images that would give more clues as to Pete’s location. He caught a glimpse of stone walls. Orange bricks. That crossed off the first of his locations. The second was a bust - the lighthouse had been converted into some kind of tourist attraction, and despite the inclement weather was overcome with families playing ball games, eating ice cream and listening to a tour guide explain the history of the place. The third looked deserted. But the shape, height and the red bricks at the top of the tower slammed right into Patrick’s brain with a shock of recognition. Pete was here. He could feel him but - it was so faint - 

“PETE!” he yelled, not caring if he sounded crazy. At least no-one seemed to be working. The lighthouse sat on a promontory, surrounded by grey and brown rocks. tHe sky was overcast, and the sea agitated, wind whipping small waves against the rocks and leaving them slick with algae. It was exactly the kind of place Pete would come in one of his dark moods. Patrick locked the car, then jogged to the lighthouse door, which was locked and chained up, so he ran all the way around the outside instead, calling Pete’s name. He didn’t see anyone, but the pressure on the bond grew stronger and stronger, and Patreick’s panic rose - he slipped on one of the wet rocks and only caught himself by grabbing at a lifering fixed to the lighthouse wall. A cold drizzle had started, spattering Patrick’s glasses and making it hard to see. Patrick squinted into the gloomy day and called ”PETE!” again, trying to send the call through the bond at the same time -

\- When his gaze fell on a slumped figure, curled up at the edge of the rocks where they slanted down into the water.

Pete’s slight frame was curled into a fetal position, but loosely, like he was deeply asleep. Patrick could sense him, but nowhere nearly as strongly as he should have been able to at this slight distance. He rushed over:

“Pete what’s wrong!? Are you hurt? Did you fall-...?” It would take a hell of a fall to hurt a vampire, but Patrick guessed it was possible. There wasn’t even enough sun to make Pete uncomfortable, let alone harm him. Patrick turned Pete over to look at him. Pete’s face was slack, and paler than usual - his eyes were closed and moisture clung to his thick dark lashes. He was cold - not the regular kind of coolness all vampires emanated, but a deeper cold. He was limp. “Pete!” Patrick was freaking out. If Pete were human, he’d think he was dying of hypothermia or something. But vampires didn’t die of hypothermia. They only died from being staked, starved, burned at phenomenal temperatures, or, or….

_“...if we get tired, we can die.”_

_“Like - commit suicide? Like stake yourself or something?”_

_“That would be messy and impractical. Not to mention painful. No, if we get tired, we can just - die.”_

_“You can will yourself to death?”_

_“That would be one way of putting it.”_

The memory of his conversation with Ryland slammed into Patrick’s mind in perfect clarity. Everything fell into place with horrifying precision. Pete’s guilt. The weird shielding. The sense of him not being ‘present’ despite the bond being open. 

_“Whenever people get close to me, bad shit happens to them. I’m like a magnet for trouble.”_

Oh, fuck Oh _fuck._ This was just like Pete. That stupid mixture of self-imporance and self-sacrificial obsession - he was planning to die nobly and dramatically to solve all his friends problems, by a suitably Romantic lakefront, under stormy Chicago skies. Patrick absolutely should have predicted this.

Well, fuck _that_ idea _._

Pete was still alive - Patrick could see him breathing, and in any case, he could still sense him faintly through the bond. He let go of Pete with one hand, fumbling in his jacket for his phone, heedless of his wet glasses slipping off of his face and onto the rocks with a clatter.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, scrolling through his contacts until he came up with the Dand mansion. One of the Alexes - Patrick could never remember which one was which - picked up, and Patrick gasped,

“Alex, get Ryden, please. We need your help. Again.”

  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

It seemed that the Dandies had pulled every string they possessed once Patrick made the situation clear to them. And that was a lot of strings. The mansion was more crowded than Patrick had ever seen it - some of the vampires he knew, including the Way brothers and Lindsey and Maja Ivarsson; some he recognised but didn’t recall their names; some he’d never seen before in his life. Most of these Patrick thought were older - not always in the physical, human sense, he just got the impression they'd been vampires for a long time, judging from their mannerisms and sometimes archaic ways of speaking. Some wore modern dress - others wore outfits that would have been inconspicuous maybe a hundred years ago. One or two could have passed for colonists, and must certainly have drawn some strange looks if they regularly went out in public like that.

  
  


They had Pete laid out on a wooden table in the mansion’s reception hall, so that the vampires milling around could examine it freely. It reminded Patrick far too much of one of those old-fashioned funerals where they laid the body out for viewing. He’d objected, rather absurdly, that it wouldn’t be comfortable, but Gabriel had assured him that Pete wouldn’t feel it - which Patrick could have guessed, really, he was just freaking out.

“Is it our place to interfere?” asked one of the unknown vampires eyeing Pete, an elegant silver-haired woman with cats-eye glasses who must have been in her fifties when she was turned. “If a vampire decides to die, we normally permit them that dignity.”

“Beckett turned Peter,” Gabriel explained. “And in some ways, Beckett was my responsibility. Perhaps he always would have become what he was, but at the very least, I should have seen his influence getting out of control among my people. Pete has mostly refused my offers of guidance, but I’m convinced that his lack of experience in vampire matters has led him to this rash decision.”

  
  


“Yes, I had heard Beckett made him,” another vampire mused. This was a middle-aged man who dressed in the clean somber style of the late 1800s and spoke with an English accent. “Forgive me, Gabriel, but it might be for the best to leave him be. You know how Beckett’s fledglings tend to turn out.”

“Peter is an unusual case,” Gabriel returned.

“He’s not the one that-”

  
  


“Yes,” said Gabriel: “Pete killed Beckett.”

A murmur went around the room, of mingled shock and admiration.

“- killed his own sire!”

“- most unnatural- “

“-last vampire who-”

“I hardly think staking Beckett can be compared to Beckett’s own list of abominations,” Gerard Way spoke up. All the vampires looked at him - apparently they still weren't used to seeing him out in public, and his voice held some weight. Silence fell.

“Pete has not had the proper guidance,” said Gabriel. “In many ways, he is little more than a fledgling. He does not understand the magnitude of what he does - nor its potential effects.” When he said that, his eyes flickered to Patrick, and Patrick felt a weird chill make it's way down his spine. Gabriel had almost looked pitying. Patrick suppressed his shivers and tried to look authoritative - not his strongest suit at the best of times, let alone here surrounded by unfamiliar powerful vampires. Joe, who’d said almost nothing since he and Andy had met Patrick at the mansion, subtly squeezed his shoulder. Patrick resisted the urge to shrug him off - it wasn’t Joe’s fault Pete was a self-sacrificial idiot. 

“In short, Pete is a unique case,” said Gabriel.

“Well it seems your mind is made up, Saporta,” the woman said. “And given all you’ve done in the name of peace for our people I’m inclined to take you at your word. But I’m not sure if there’s anything we _can_ do now. He is deep in the death trance.”

“There must be something,” Patrick said desperately. “Ryland, you mentioned before, that some vampires have gone almost to the point of death and then come back.”

“That’s true,” Ryland looked up from the stack of books he was studying with Gerard and Ray Toro, apparently recovered from his run-in with the Killers, busy at the table next to him. Lindsey Way, Mikey and Andy were rapidly organizing papers and scrolls into piles, and every so often someone would reach out and grab a few to exchange with what they were reading. “But from what we’re finding here, all those vampires were….”

“Were what?”

“Bonded,” said Ray.

“Pete’s bonded!” said Patrick.

“To another vampire,” Gerard said almost apologetically, sharing a look with his wife.

Patrick stared at him, waiting for elaboration.

“It seems like,” said Ryland said without lifting his eyes from the page: “It seems like the vampire’s bonded partner makes psychic contact to bring them back. It's only happened three times and they’re all translations. I haven’t used Latin for a while. But I’m pretty sure…”

“I could do that,” Patrick nodded quickly. “Pete and I can communicate like that. Kind of. I mean, he’s better at it, but I can-”

“No, I’m sorry Patrick,” Gerard was shaking his head. “But you can’t. Not with Pete in this state. It's no reflection on you or the quality of our bond. No human could initiate that kind of psychic contact - you might as well ask a fish to fly or a horse to climb a tree.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Patrick said, 

“So you’re giving up?”

“Patrick-” said Joe, at the same time as Gerard said,

“I’m really sorry. There isn’t always a good answer, even for vampires.”

“No,” Patrick shook his head, feeling his heart pick up pace as it slotted into place in his head. “If I were a vampire, there would be an answer. So I guess-” He stopped. Was he going through with it? Would he say it? 

_“I’ll be old and wrinkled and probably start forgetting shit, and you’ll be young and gorgeous and powerful and - and -....”_

_“I can’t go back, so why wonder about it? It is what it is.”_

_“I don’t know how to describe it. It's like trying to explain colour to someone who’s never had sight. It's like your mind sort of - opens up, and you can see and feel and smell the world in ways you never could before.”_

If he didn’t do it now, Patrick reasoned, a day would come when he’d essentially be facing the same question. Eventually it would be him facing mortality, one way or another - and then he’d have to decide. Did he turn, and stay with Pete? Or remain human, and accept their inevitable separation?

“I’m ready then,” he said, unsure if he was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth. “I want to be a vampire.”

A low mutter went around the room - none of the Ways looked particularly surprised. Joe’s eyes were wide and he looked frozen. Andy’s face gave nothing away. Gabriel looked thoughtful.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s-”

“Yes yes, it's permanent, I know,” Patrick said impatiently. 

“I was going to say,” said Gabriel mildly, “That it's not a decision to make on the spur of the moment.”

“I’m not,” said Patrick. “I’ve been thinking about it.” From across the room, Mikey gave him a tiny smile. Patrick felt bad for ever being jealous of the guy. “This just makes it sooner rather than later, I guess.” He looked at Ryland, who nodded slightly.

“I understand,” said Ryland. “But Patrick, even if you turn, there’s no guarantee you can bring Pete back. Like I said, it's been done only three times before.”

“And if I don’t,” said Patrick, “There’s no chance I can.” His voice came out sounding braver than he felt. If he failed - if he couldn’t bring Pete back - well, then he’d be stuck as a vampire, alone, pretty much forever or unless somebody staked him. ‘Well, what of it?’ He asked himself. He could still be _him -_ he knew enough turned vampires who hadn’t become monsters - he could drink the blood substitute and he’d have friends, and -

In any case, there wasn’t much point in reasoning. It wasn’t a rational decision. It barely felt like a decision at all.

“Who do you want to do it?” Ryland asked.

'Pete', Patrick thought, but he said, “Gabriel. If you would. I figure he’s the strongest psychic here - no offence, Gerard -”

“None taken. It's not a straightforward comparison, but overall, I daresay you’re right.”

“So that should make me a stronger psychic when I’m turned, right?”

“Theoretically,” said Gabriel. “And yes, I’m willing.”

“Do it,” said Patrick, and braced himself. The murmuring in the room took on a note of disapproval. Even Ryland looked taken aback.

“Well - not _here_ ,” said Gabriel. “It’s rather a private matter.”

“Where then?” demanded Patrick, forcing himself to glance at Pete. He remained unnaturally motionless, eyes closed, he looked (‘dead’) deeply asleep. “Come on, we don’t have time for this.”

“Patrick-” Joe said.

“I’m sorry guys,” Patrick said to Andy and Joe. “If this - if it disappoints you or whatever.”

“We’re not disappointed,” said Andy. “There’s nothing to be disappointed about. We’re just - surprised - ”

Patrick shrugged. “Me too. Guess I’m surprising myself today.” To Gabriel he said: “Where do you want me?”

“The small parlour,” Gabriel decided. “It’s private and soundproofed, and dark. Ryland, see that she shades and windows are drawn tight in the hallways - for afterwards.” Ryland nodded and stood up - Patrick guessed to ensure things were ready for him when he emerged from the parlour. He wouldn’t be seeing the sun for a while, he realized with a start. “Prepare some blood,” Gabriel said to the other Alex.

“Is it-?” Patrick asked.

“Human, from a willing donor,” Gabriel said. “It’s best to increase your strength rapidly - for a new fledgling, there’s no substitute that can match it.”

“Okay then,” Patrick swallowed hard. This was it. He looked around the room, at his friends - the last time he’d observe them from human eyes, forever - and sketched a little salute in the air like the dork he always would be. Then he turned and followed Gabriel to the small parlour.

Like every room in the mansion, the small parlour was ornate, with thick dark drapes closed and dark wooden furniture. A chaise lounge and a sofa framed a coffee table, and a sideboard housed a selection of crystalline decanters. Patrick glimpsed a selection of expensive alcohol - vampires couldn’t really get drunk, but Gabriel did have human associates - or perhaps he sold it, Patrick thought. Some of it was probably old and rare. He’d never really considered how vampires financed their long lives - he supposed at some level he’d just assumed Gabriel was born into wealth, or had investments from 1802 or something - but he guessed that was just one of many things he was about to find out, ready or not.

“Where should I…?” Patrick looked around.

“Wherever you’d be comfortable,” Gabriel gave an elegant shrug. “But I’d suggest you sit down.”

Patrick sat on the sofa with a thud.

“This is going to hurt, right?” he swallowed.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, “But not for long.”

“Okay,” Patrick screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “Do it. You won’t accidentally like - take too much and kill me permanently, right?”

“I haven’t done so in three hundred years,” said Gabriel. “And by the way - breathe. It will make this easier.”

Patrick opened his eyes despite himself, just as Gabriel leaned in. There was a second of pressure, as the points of Gabriel’s fangs met his skin, then his skin tore - he felt it, and it hurt, but that sting was nothing compared to the burn of long, piercing fangs entering his flesh, and a rush of of something like heat into his bloodstream -

Ryland hadn’t been kidding. It hurt.

Patrick felt his heart beating faster and faster, trying to keep up as Gabriel drew the blood from him. For a moment, he panicked - primal instinct screaming at him to get away, to pull back and run as far and as fast from the threat as quickly as he possibly could - but it was over soon. Already, he felt his heart growing fainter, his blood slowing, his vision fading out into reddish darkness - ‘this is what Pete felt’, he thought, with an abrupt clear flashback to the sight of Pete screaming as Beckett bit him - he briefly thought of his parents - his brothers - Joe and Andy -

\- and

\- then

\- he…

  
  
  


\- …...was…

  
  
  
  


_\- ALIVE._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left to go after this. Thanks for sticking with it! x

People thought of vampires as agents of death, but no, this wasn't death. It was living, more alive perhaps than he’d ever been. Like being yanked from the water to gasp for air in the first time for too long. It hurt like fire, like being washed in something that burned, or maybe like being electrocuted from the inside. But the vampires had told the truth - the pain didn’t last. It fizzled out as abruptly as it had started. A few moments seemed to pass, and the next thing Patrick knew his mouth was being forced open, and he was swallowing something - 

\- something incredible, something like he imagined some hardcore drug must be (Patrick had never tried anything more than a weak joint in his life, but he’d seen a few movies, okay), something hot and thick and vital that he knew was blood, but it didn’t taste like blood anymore. Not to him. It tasted like nothing he’d ever experienced. His whole body seemed to light up, thrum in time with whatever this thing was. His vision cleared - _and cleared._ Patrick realized with a start that his glasses had fallen off, yet he could see perfectly. He remembered what Ryland had said before - like trying to explain colour to someone who’s never had sight - and now he understood the aptness of the comparison. Every sense was just - heightened. More. and he felt strong - stronger than he’d ever felt in his life before -

“That was fast,” he heard himself say, and giggled.

“Not particularly,” said Ryden from somewhere. “Two days is about standard for one of 

Gabriel’s fledglings to come back to themselves.”

“Two _days?”_ Patrick sat bolt upright. He was still on the sofa in the small parlour, though apparently he’d been lying down. As far as he was aware, only a few moments had gone by since Gabriel had turned him.

“Two days,” Ryland confirmed. He was sitting back in a chair with his long legs stretched in front of him, every bit the languid gentleman in his waistcoat and cravat.

“I - what - where’s Pete?! Where’s everyone?” He was on his feet. He didn’t remember _getting_ to his feet. He just thought about it, and then he was standing. Was this how his body would work now? 

“Pete is where you left him,” Ryden said. “Most of the others have gone home, though Andy is still here.”

Patrick nodded, distracted. He had a moment’s concern that Joe hadn’t stayed, but then it was probably time someone checked on the apartment and the warehouse after all. A flash caught his eye, and he turned to see his reflection in the long mirror. He’d often thought it was lucky for Pete that the no-reflection myth wasn’t true - Pete would never get out of the house if he couldn’t check his hair in the morning - but all of a sudden Patrick needed to see himself.

If he’d been expecting a _Twilight_ -style transformation, he was disappointed. He looked - like himself. Maybe a little paler, eyes a little - sharper - but that could be his imagination. He wasn’t magically tall and skinny and glamorous - but - but -

Patrick opened his mouth, pushing his lip up with one finger. And there, small and sharp and pointed, were his fangs.

Holy fucking shit.

Patrick actually took a step back, his eyes huge.

“Yes,” said Ryden calmly. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Patrick shook his head. “There’s no time for this. I have to get to Pete.”

“If you think you’re ready,” Ryland said. Patrick had no idea if he was ready or not, or how he’d even judge that, but he was overtaken by urgency. He followed Ryland back to that meeting chamber, huge and empty now, and went straight to Pete, who looked exactly as he had the last time Patrick had seen him. Gabriel was now at the desk, writing with a fountain pen, and Andy was ensconced in one of the big chairs, reading. When Patrick entered, they both looked up. Gabriel inspected Patrick, then nodded a bit preeningly:

“Very nice,” he said with approval. “Quite mature for his age, if I’m not mistaken.”

Patrick had no idea what he was judging, but he hoped that was a good thing. Andy stared. Andy rarely stared at anything, so maybe Patrick was more different than he could tell. He went straight to Pete, forcing himself to stare at his passive face. He looked so - absent. It was almost like looking at a lifesize doll - like Pete wasn't there at all. He drew a deep breath:

“What do I do?”

“Reach out to him,” encouraged Ryden. “Just the way you would when you were human.”

Patrick touched Pete’s face. He felt cold as ice, cold like vampires were in legends and fairytales. But the place in Patrick’s mind where they were bonded flared to life suddenly, stronger and more fierce than he’d ever felt it. The whole _quality_ was different - he could sense Pete much more clearly, none of the haze he’d experienced as a human. He felt more in control of it, too - before, it had been like opening a door and letting what came through come. Now it was like Patrick could walk through the door, and manipulate the environment. And yet Pete felt far away - as though Patrick could see him through a powerful telescope, allowing him clarity but not reach.

_Pete!_ He appealed.

Pete did nothing.

_Pete!_ Patrick tried again, and this time, the sense of Pete flickered, and Patrick felt the briefest sense of acknowledgement - maybe the psychic equivalent of glancing over his shoulder. Then Patrick was overwhelmed with the sense of a landscape, but it wasn’t Pete’s usual mental landscape, with which he was so familiar. It was - _dark._ Jagged. Pete’s mind had it's usual pitfalls, but this was different. Forbidding. Now he felt like he called to Pete down a dark tunnel, no - a well - that Pete was connected to him by a thin glistening thread, that if Patrick dropped the thread he would vanish forever and ever, for the well had no bottom. Of course it was only metaphor - none of this really felt physical or spatial - but Patrick had never experienced the psychic bond with anything like this intensity, and his mind groped for the familiar to make sense of it.

_Pete it's me,_ Patrick tried desperately. _Come back._

  
  
*

Joe sat on the low wall outside the apartment, smoking. He was probably smoking too much lately, but given the circumstances he figured it was excusable. It wasn’t really doing much to calm the turmoil in his mind, but the hand to mouth action was automatic and soothing. He burrowed a little further into his coat - night was falling, and the temperature dropped fast.

“Is that pot?”

Joe jumped at the familiar voice, heart lurching in his chest. Jess emerged from the semi-darkness, almost as quiet as a vampire. He defaulted automatically to his usual response:

“Do you mind?”

“Only if you don’t share.”

He held out the spliff and Jessica took a quick drag before handing it back. She came to stand next to him - not touching, but mirroring his posture, her back against the wall and staring out in the same direction.

“Um-” Joe said.

“I heard about Pete,” said Jessica.

“You did? How?”

“You know how hunters talk,” she shrugged. “Some of them even talk to vampires.” She slid a look at him. He paused.

“How are things at - ….the compound?”

“When I left they were getting back to normal, more or less. Obviously Brandon’s angry. He wants you dead, unsurprisingly.”

Joe turned to stare at her. “What do you mean, when you left?”

“I’ve been staying with a cousin a little way outside town.” Jess finally lifted her gaze and looked at him. “I didn’t want to be ordered to kill you.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy to kill,” said Joe objected, trying to lighten the mood a little. She flicked an eye over him:

“I could take you.”

“Yeah, probably." And they smiled hesitantly at each other.

“So um,” Joe said. “Are you still hunting or-”

“I was shocked when I heard about what Pete did,” Jessica interrupted him. “Probably more shocked than by anything Brandon’s done. I didn’t think vampires- I mean, it was stupid, but it was also noble, you know? It was - self-sacrificial. I didn’t think vampires did that.”

“Well I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about vampires,” Joe couldn’t help himself. Jess looked at him sharply for a second, but then she nodded.

“I guess so.”

“What do you want to do?” Joe asked. His heart was beating fasting, he felt almost sick with tension, and he didn’t even know how he wanted her to answer. He dropped the butt of the joint and stepped on it, just for something to do with his hands.

“I’d - like to try again,” Jess said. “I'd like us to try again. I guess I could - get used to Pete.”

“You might not get the opportunity,” Joe pointed out, though something in him soared with renewed hope at her words. “But you’d have to get used to Patrick in any case.”

“Is he -?!” Jess looked startled.

“To save Pete,” Joe confirmed. “Or to try to. It's something to do with the vampire bond, I don’t understand it. Hell, I don’t think Patrick understands it. But he’s getting turned to try.”

Jess bit her bottom lip, a habit she had when she was nervous. “He must really love him.”

Joe said: “He does.”

Jess shook her head as though to clear it. “Well, I won’t pretend to understand it. But I- I’m willing to learn, whatever happens with Pete and Patrick. You’ll - you’ll have to be patient with me. It's - a lot.”

“I can be patient,” said Joe softly, feeling something inside him melt at the confusion and determination on her face. “And I’d like that too. For us to try again.”

“I’ve missed you,” Jess blurted.

“Oh my God, I’ve missed you too,” said Joe, bent to take her face in his hands, and she threw her arms around him, kissing him hard in the dusk.

  
  
  
*

_Patrick?_

The scene seemed to change. Now he and Pete were on the same level, but separated by an expanse of blank darkness. Pete’s ‘voice’ was clearer, but still so faint.

_Pete I’m so mad with you._ Patrick couldn’t stop the surge of anger from flashing across the bond.

_I’m sorry_ , Pete ‘said’. _I thought…_

_You thought what? You thought you’d leave me? Leave all of us?_

_I thought I was making it better, Trick. You know how it is - I’m a magnet for bad shit. Without me, Joe wouldn’t have to choose. You -_

_I what?_

_You could have the band you deserve._

_The only band I want is one with YOU in it, you idiot. The only LIFE I want._

_Wait!_ Pete was startled, suddenly. T _rick how - how are you here? How did you - oh my God. You -_

_Yeah,_ Patrick gave the impression of a shrug. _I’m a vampire now. You couldn't tell?_

_You look the same here,_ Pete marvelled. _I guess cos my image of you hasn’t changed - or - or your image of yourself? But your mind - it's so strong, Trick!_

_Gabriel turned me. He’s so powerful, I guess some of it rubbed off._

_Trick….I can’t believe you would..._

_It was the only way to reach you, Pete._

_I’m scared_ , Pete admitted. _I thought it was the right thing but I….I don’t want to die._

_Then don’t!_ Patrick exclaimed. P _ete, no-one wants you to do this. Come back._

_I….I don’t know how. It’s so dark here._ Pete sounded small and far away.

Patrick reached out - in his physical body, he would have extended his arm and stretched - and Pete seemed to make the same gesture. The darkness between them swam and shivered.

_I can’t reach!_ Pete wailed.

_You CAN!_ Patrick forced the thought through the bond: _WE can!_

He felt a rush of emotion as Pete expended as much effort as he possibly could to reach back to Patrick - 

\- And then the dark seemed to crack, and light flooded in, blinding

\- And then the light resolved into lamplight, he was holding Pete’s face, kneeling astride him on the wooden table, and Pete’s eyes were open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sap.


	14. Chapter 14

Pete and Jess regarded each other warily from across the main room of the apartment. Patrick perched on the back of the couch, near Pete, and Joe hovered near the doorway. Andy sat on the couch with his legs folded in a yoga pose, watching quietly.

“So,” Jess cleared her throat at last and came into the warehouse properly. She walked over to Pete and put out her hand to him. “I guess I - I owe you an apology. And you too,” this was to Patrick.

“Why?” said Pete with narrowed eyes, and didn’t shake her hand. “You haven’t tried to stake me. Unless you were planning to all along....”

“I wasn’t,” Jess said. “But I thought the worst of you. Before I even met you, and - and after I met you, actually. But I was wrong.”

“Well,” Pete softened. “It’s not your fault, really. It's Flowers’ fault. Plus, we all had a lot of wrong ideas about vampires, before we really met any. I guess if I’d been in a cult my whole life-” a look of annoyance crossed Jess’s face, and Joe winced at Pete’s indelicacy “-I’d probably believe whatever they told me, too”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m _persona non grata_ to Brandon now,” said Jess. “He wouldn’t kill me - I don’t think - but I’m definitely not a Killer anymore.” She shrugged: “I don’t really know what I am.” Joe’s heart twinged, and he wanted to interrupt, but he figured it was for the best to let Pete and Jess finish their conversation.

“Who does?” Pete shrugged, and shook her hand at last, offering a small hint of a smile. When they touched hands, discomfort flickered across Jess’s face, then she repressed it.

“And I guess I should apologise to you too,” Jess said to Patrick.

“That’s not necessary,” Patrick held a hand up.

“No we...had some bad opinions of you,” Jess said. “I said some - pretty gross stuff. The others said worse things and I just agreed with them.”

“Well, as a short glasses-wearing fat kid who did in fact go to high school, a lot of people have said gross stuff about me,” said Patrick with equanimity, at which Pete screeched,

“PATRICK YOU’RE NOT FAT YOU’RE PERFECT!”

And Jess said,

“No I meant - that’s not what -”

“I know, I’m kidding,” said Patrick. “You all figured I was some kind of perverted weirdo who enjoyed being a vampire sex slave or some shit. It was never like that, but to be honest, I didn’t really care what you guys thought about me.”

“Okay, uh, that makes me feel better. I guess,” Jess looked confused. Patrick put out his hand for her to shake, and she did. Joe smiled.

“I’m pretty sure Brandon is still gonna try to kill all of you guys though,” Jess warned them.

“Lots of people and things have tried to kill us,” Andy said. “So far their success rate isn’t looking so good.”

They all looked at each other, and something seemed to lift in the atmosphere. For the first time in what seemed like months, Joe breathed out. Suddenly he felt like everything was going to be okay. Not perfect - nothing and no-one ever could be, contra his hormonally-blurred impressions when he’d first been falling in love with Jess - the Killers still wanted them all dead and people still hated vampires and he and Jess would still have - stuff - to work out, they probably always would - but okay. They could handle it. He had his girl and his friends and his band, and his confidence that he was doing the right thing in his hunting practice. They could handle it together.

“I can’t say it's not weird,” Jessica said later. They were lying in his bed together after a session of reunion sex that felt more familiar than earth-shattering. It was still afternoon, and Pete and Patrick at least were probably around - but hey, the walls were thin, and Joe had had to listen to them doing it more times than he was comfortable, no matter how discreet they thought they were being. For a second Joe considered making a sex joke, but she sounded serious. Jess was staring at the ceiling, half-curled under his right arm, and he propped himself up on his left elbow to look at her.

“The good vampire thing?” he asked.

She slid her eyes to his face and nodded. He picked up one of her curls and twined it around his fingers as she watched.

“It was weird to me too at first,” he admitted. “I didn’t actually believe Pete could - still be Pete. He was turned in pretty much the worst way you can get turned, so he was like - basically feral for a bit there. I thought we’d have to stake him at some points.”

Jess sat up. “You never told me that.”

“I thought it was what he would want,” Joe said. “The real him, I mean. Patrick obviously had more faith, and so here we are. And then Patrick got turned in the proper way, so it's like - easier, for him, I guess.”

Jess lay down again, and turned away from him slightly. “I was nine when they killed my parents,” she said. “They broke in through the basement window. I hid, but I heard all of it. I don’t know why they were targeted.”

“They probably weren’t,” Joe said gently. “Probably the vampires were just hungry, and feral. Or renegades who just didn’t care. They’re all different.”

“Like people, I guess,” Jess said slowly. “I mean - like humans.”

“Like humans,” Joe agreed, and they fell silent, just listening to the quiet afternoon.

  
  


*

  
  


“So, we need to talk,” Patrick said flatly, coming into his and Pete’s bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“I’m busy,” Pete lied, trying to look like he was doing something business-related on his new phone.

“You’re playing _Super Mario Brothers_ ,” said Patrick.

“Yeah well I almost got a highscore.”

“Put the phone away, Pete.”

Pete looked uncomfortable, but he obliged. Patrick sat down next to him on the bed and stared at him until he looked up.

“What the actual fuck did you think you were doing?” he asked. “You tried to _die._ You almost _did_ die. Nobody even knew if we could get you back. Do you even get what we went through back there? Do you get what it would do to us - to me - to lose you like that?"

“Well, yeah,” Pete said, and looked Patrick in his new vampire form up and down.

“No, you don’t,” said Patrick. “Even now. I can feel it through the bond. Pete, why don’t you understand that I - how could you think that _taking yourself away from me_ would be _better?”_

_“_ I’m sorry,” said Pete. 

“Don’t be _sorry_!” Patrick grabbed his hand. “Just listen to what I’m saying! Nobody _-_ not me, not Joe, not anybody - would be better off without you around, okay? Even if you feel like it sometimes, it's not true. It would only ever be worse. And I’m sorry that I - I didn’t -”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t get what you were feeling.”

“You couldn’t have,” Pete pointed out. “I was blocking you.”

“Well, one advantage of this,” Patrick indicated himself with a smirk that showed his new fangs, “Amongst other things, is that you can’t do that anymore.”

“You’re very gung-ho about this whole turning thing,” Pete said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy as fuck,” - Patrick rolled his eyes - “But it's so - I mean, it took me a long time to get used to this."”

“I did have a better experience of turning than you did,” Patrick pointed out. “I think Gabriel did a lot to minimise the trauma. He’s really powerful.”

“True. But I don’t just mean the turning itself. I mean the implications - like the long term. Patrick, this changes everything. _Everything._ Forever. You understand it's forever, right? We’re not gonna age. We’re gonna outlive everyone around us except for other vampires.”

“It had occurred to me, believe it or not. And yeah - it's - an adjustment. Maybe it hasn’t really sunk in yet. It's hard to think that far into the future. But _you’re_ not going to outlive me,” said Patrick. “And I’m not going to outlive you, okay? You’re stuck with me now”

“Objectively I think you’re the one who's stuck with me, Rick,” Pete grinned.

“Well, let’s agree that we’re stuck with each other, Peter Pan,” said Patrick.

“Forever,” Pete said fervently, and then just as Patrick leaned in to kiss him properly, and whispered, “Wendy.”

  
  
  


*

  
  


“Damn, that’s a lot of kids,” Patrick peered around the left wing of the stage carefully, trying not to let himself be visible from the rapidly filling seats and standing standing space. The arena was buzzing, literally: hordes of kids filed in bearing banners and t-shirts, some jumping up and down in excitement, laughing and chattering and occasionally yelling to their friends.

‘FALL OUT BOY RULES’ read the first banner Patrick caught sight of; a few more of them quoted lyrics, interspersed with the inevitable ‘PETE IS SUPER HOT’ and ‘BITE ME PETE’.

“Well this stadium does seat six thousand,” said Andy. “And it's a sold-out show.”

Patrick swallowed hard, and Pete crowed “In your face, protest jerks!”

Patrick winced. They’d been hustled through a growing crowd of protesters outside - apparently the Killers’ influence was still going strong, and a solid group of people had turned out to protest the band as the heralds of moral decay, social disorder and general evil. But conversely, for the first time, a second group had turned out - holding signs that read ‘vampires are people’ and ‘strength in unity’. At the head of the second crowd, bundled up in a big coat and scarf, Jess held a sign that read ‘Human/vampire equality’. Patrick spared her a small smile, and Joe clearly hadn’t been expecting it - his mouth dropped open, cartoon hearts practically appeared in his eyes, and Andy had to yank on his hand to keep him from jumping the barrier. Still Joe managed to communicate to security that they should let her backstage when nobody was looking. Joe was now holed up in one of the back rooms with her, probably making out instead of getting ready for the show. Well, Patrick was glad for him. He’d never seen Joe so happy before. It wasn’t doing his creativity any harm either, as he’d been writing frantically for the last few days, and his new compositions were pretty damn impressive.

“So I guess you’re going public tonight,” Pete said to Patrick. Patrick winced. So far he’d managed to be surreptitious, but once he started singing, it was going to be pretty obvious that he was now sporting his very own set of fangs. “I mean, you could say it's a costume,” Pete offered, seeing Patrick’s discomfort: “Like, in solidarity or whatever. I could do a speech.”

“No,” sighed Patrick. “People are going to find out sooner or later. I’d rather they hear it from me than some trashy magazine.”

“You’re gonna talk onstage?” said Pete.

Patrick shrugged. “Don’t see that I have much choice.” It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed about being a vampire. He just didn’t like having his personal business discussed in public forums. This was sure to lead to invasive questions - how and why, and the details of his turning. “I just wish people would stick to talking about the music,” he added, knowing that Pete at least would follow his train of thought. It was Andy who answered though:

“Understandable. But it comes with the territory, you know? I wasn’t super happy about signing to a major label. But now I think - look, things are changing. Between vampires and humans. They could change for the better, or they could get much, much worse. And if - by being out there - having our 'image' out there, I guess - we can give kids something to look up to that promotes more unification and less violence, then I’m for it.” He shrugged.

“I knew you wanted to be in an issue band,” said Patrick, but he was smiling.

“I should totally do a speech,” said Pete.

“I will be extremely happy for you to start talking and take the focus off me, as soon as I’ve made a statement,” Patrick said.

“I could never take the focus off you, Hattrick,” Pete said and smiled back at him. “You’re a born star.”

“Oh my God, let’s just go warm up,” Patrick laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

And they headed backstage to do so.

  
  


The End!

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap on this one! It feels like a long time since I started this story, but then, a lot has happened, both in the world and to me personally. Still can't believe I had my first and hopefully only near death experience while I was writing a vampire fic. What is my life. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you are doing as well as can be expected in these crazy times. Thank you for reading, and do leave me a comment to let me know if you like it. xxx
> 
> PS - if you like magical bandom fics, and you haven't read acareeroutofrobbingbanks' Highway To Hell series, what are you even doing right now? Drop everything and read it immediately. Its what made me want to try my hand at a hunting story and it's A M A Z I N G.


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